Heaven and Hurricanes
Author: Sean Michael Norris
Date: 2022-07-13 00:00:00+00:00
Description: When he was twenty-two years old, Alexander Murphy turned down a full scholarship to law school, packed up his car, and moved to Key West, Florida. Driven by his lack of direction, and fueled by his love of literature, he made that small island paradise his home. He spent his days on boats and on beaches, and his nights working as a bartender at a bar called The Broken Seahorse. He wasn't challenged, but he was comfortable, and for two years he felt content in his complacency. All of that was before a girl named Iliza D'Ambrosio walked into his life, and ruined everything. "From the moment I m
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services LLC - Kdp

by

MICHAEL WISEHART
www.michaelwisehart.com

© 2017

Copyright

Hurricane is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Michael Wisehart

All Rights Reserved.

1st Edition

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part without the written permission of the author.

Cover Art by Whendell Souza

Map by Maria Gandolfo | RenflowerGrapx

Illustrations by Janelle Wisehart

Editing by Danae Smith, Mia Darien

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Table of Contents

Map of Aramoor

Books

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

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Author Note

Acknowledgements

About The Author

Glossary

Map of Aramoor

Click below to view this map in more detail:

https://michaelwisehart.com/city-of-aramoor/

Books

THE ALDORAN CHRONICLES

Prequel | Shackled

Book 1 | The White Tower

STREET RATS OF ARAMOOR

(Read in this order)

Book 1 | Banished (The Beginning)

Book 2 | Hurricane

My journey was nearing its end.

After nearly six months of traveling from one side of Aldor to the other, I found myself bouncing along in the back of a wagon I’d been sharing with half-a-dozen large melons and a barrel of cucumbers that smelled of last week’s pickings as opposed to the “fresh cut” label on the front.

A farmer and his wife and son had been good enough to give me a ride. They told me no thirteen-year-old boy should be out on these roads by themselves. There could be highwaymen just waiting to snatch me up. Their son, who was seated across from me on a small crate of lettuce, was several years younger and definitely not shy about speaking his mind.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked, his head cocked slightly to the side. “They look funny.”

“Hush, Enon. That’s rude.” His mother was trying her best not to stare herself.

Enon reminded me of my younger brother, Jorn. He was about the same age, and just as feisty.

The little boy folded his arms. “Well, they do.”

I smiled. Having passed through as many cities, towns, and villages as I had on my way to Aramoor, I’d grown accustomed to the stares. It would seem colorless eyes were something of a rarity. Growing up in the Lost City of Keldor, I’d never known any different. I was just as amazed at the variety of color I’d seen.

“All of my people have the same eyes.”

The farmer’s wife twisted in her seat. “Your people?”

“Upaka.”

The woman’s expression darkened and her husband threw me a sharp look over his shoulder. “Upaka?” There was a hint of concern in his voice. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in quite some time. What are you doing this far south?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, not feeling in the mood to share the tale of my banishment with strangers, even strangers kind enough to give me a ride.

They got the hint and didn’t pry further. I doubted their silence had anything to do with common courtesy. After all, my people were well-known as mercenaries for hire.

A gust of wind caught my hair and sent it whipping behind me. It had grown long enough to tickle my shoulders, nearly half as long as my sister Rianna’s, which would have earned me some time with mother’s shears, were I at home.

We crested a small rise and I could see Aramoor looming in the distance. It was larger than anything I had imagined. The capital city of Elondria was the home of the High King. It was also the largest city in the known world. Nothing in the five kingdoms came close to its magnitude. The thought of calling it “home” both excited and terrified me.

“So, this is your first time to Aramoor, is it?” the farmer asked. He’d turned his attention back to his team as the horses plodded down the main road leading toward the city.

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “Bet you’ve never laid eyes on the likes of it before.”

“I haven’t.”

“That wall is one of Aldor’s great wonders, if you ask me.”

I stared off into the distance at the protective barrier surrounding the city. Its white stone could be seen for miles in all directions. The city itself seemed to stretch on forever.

“It’s huge.”

“Aye. They say it was built by wizards after the defeat of the Kuhl hordes. It was probably one of the last great feats of magic before the Purge.” The farmer shook his head. “It’s hard to believe something as evil as magic could create such beauty.”

I bit my tongue. Magic was no more likely to make someone evil than having too much gold. I’d seen the lust for wealth have more of an effect on people than magic. And since I happened to be one of those wielders who kept their abilities hidden for fear of being imprisoned within the White Tower, I felt like I could speak from personal experience.

The road grew more congested the closer we got to the city’s eastern gate. It was as though the townsfolk from the surrounding communities had decided to make a sacred pilgrimage to the capital, all at the same time.

We passed a number of other wagons toting wares to sell to those living within the protection of the great wall.

Our pace slowed as we reached the first of two gatehouses leading in. This close, I could see that the blocks used to build the fortification were as wide as the farmer’s wagon. I wondered at the amount of magic it must have required. The wizards from that age must have been truly powerful.

A sentry waved the cart in front of us on through and we pulled forward to the first checkpoint. “State your name and purpose,” the guard said. He bore the insignia of the Elondrian Lancers—a high sun overshadowing a golden crown.

I’d seen pictures of that emblem in my studies back home. As an Upaka, I had been required to learn of the various militaries within the five kingdoms. Their crests and colors had been just as important to memorize as their styles of combat.

“The name’s Neelan, from Cadwyn.  This is my wife and my two boys. We have fresh produce to sell at the lower market on South Avis.”

The guard passed a quick glance our way, not overly worried with a young mother and her two boys. He stepped over to my side of the wagon and looked in. Thankfully, my back was to him so I didn’t have to worry with hiding my eyes. One quick glance and he was walking back around to the front. He waved us forward. “Move on through.”

We passed a second guard station once we were through the gate, but no one bothered stopping us. The lancers at that station were concerned with traffic leaving the city.

“Where would you like us to drop you off?” Neelan asked as we started down the main thoroughfare leading into the heart of Aramoor.

In the distance, I could see great domes and spires rising above the dwellings we were passing between. They reminded me of the snowcapped peaks of the Northern Heights back home.

With this being my first time inside the city, I needed to get my bearings before attempting to explore any deeper.

“I’ll get off here, thanks.”

“Here?” The farmer’s wife turned in her seat. “Do you have family nearby?” She looked at the closest buildings as if expecting to see some nice couple standing there waiting on me.

“Uh, yes,” I lied. “Uncle Fen . . . der . . . stad.” Of course, I didn’t have an uncle, and if I did, his name certainly wouldn’t have been Fenderstad, but when asked to produce a name with no time to consider my options, it was the first thing out of my mouth. I wished I’d given it a little more thought.

The farmer directed the horses over to the edge of the road and stopped the wagon. “Are you sure? It’s easy to get lost in here if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I’ll be fine. He doesn’t live far from here.” I grabbed my travel bag and slung it over my shoulder before hopping down from the back. “My parents gave me directions. Thank you for the ride. It was most kind.” I waved, not giving them a chance to argue. I was too embarrassed to tell them I was homeless with nowhere to go.

“Well good luck to you, lad,” Neelan said with a slightly worried look and a polite wave. “If you change your mind, we’ll be on South Avis. It’s off of King’s Way East.” He pointed at the wide cobbled road in front of us leading into the heart of the city. “Just follow this to the main square and then turn left. You’ll find us somewhere near Marrow Lane in Cheapside. You can’t miss it. We usually sell out before dusk, so if you can’t find us by then, just wait for us at the east gate.”

“Thank you. I will.”  I waved once more and casually walked down the first street on the right. I hoped it looked like I knew where I was going. Behind me, I could hear the farmer snap the reins and the wagon wheels thump over the cobblestones.

I stopped at the corner of the next building and listened as the wagon blended into the cacophony of noise coming from those on their way to market. I took a deep breath and slowly scanned the street, mesmerized by the flow of the crowd. I was surrounded by more people than I’d ever seen in my life, and yet I had never felt so alone.

After being banished from my home for breaking Shal’Noran, my father had given me as much coin as he could afford to help me make a new start. He said it would be enough to help me purchase an apprenticeship with a local merchant wherever I ended up. I hoped it would be enough to last me until I was able to find some work.

At the thought of my father, I lifted the thin chain from where I had it safely hidden under my tunic and stared at the ring hanging from its end. The black onyx band had a single white rune at its center, the crest of my clan. It represented my clan’s place within the greater Upakan society. The ring was only given to those who had earned the right to be called Warrior. My father had given it to me as a way to remind me of who I was. I had repeated his words over and over in my mind since leaving the Lost City: “You are still Upaka. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

After tucking the chain back into my shirt, I pulled the hood of my black cloak up to hide my eyes and made my way north up the street. I let the natural flow of the people move me along. The farther I walked the more the crowds began to dwindle. I kept an eye out for a place to stay. I didn’t want to get too far away from the eastern gate in case I needed to take Master Neelan up on his offer.

I was looking for somewhere reputable, but not too reputable. A respectable establishment came at a cost. One I wasn’t too keen to pay, considering my limited funds. I would have been fine with four walls and a mattress, as long as it came with clean sheets and an owner who wouldn’t try mugging me in the middle of the night, unlike the first small town I had stayed in after leaving home. I had learned very quickly what to look for when choosing a place to stay.

The further I traveled from King’s Way East, the more dilapidated the buildings became, not to mention the people mingling around them. I generally judged a location by the hairs on the back of my neck. So far, they hadn’t risen, which meant it was a reasonably safe place to find a room, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

Across the street, a sign swung back and forth with a rusty moan. The faded gold letters under the painting of a large buck proclaimed it as: THE WHITE STAG. It seemed a typical name for an Elondrian Inn. Many carried the label of wild animals—The White Stag, The Wild Boar, The Dancing Bear—though I found the thought of a bear dancing hard to imagine.

The building looked reliable enough. A couple of windows on the upper floors were lit, letting me know it was in use, so I headed across the street. I reached for the front door, but a sharp cry kept me from entering.

“Help!” Someone please help!”

A young boy, several years younger than myself was being dragged by two older boys into a narrow alley a few buildings away. The bigger of the two slapped the kid across the face. “Shut your mouth or I’ll slit your throat.”

I looked to see if anyone was going to help, but the few people I saw didn’t seem to care enough to stop what they were doing. For most, that meant sitting around smoking pipes and nursing drinks while pretending nothing was amiss.

I knew I shouldn’t get involved. I looked away, but the boy’s desperate pleas stopped me and I turned back.

What kind of citizen would I be if I just let this kid be taken without trying to help? My father’s voice answered from somewhere in the back of my mind. “A smart one.”

I sighed, dropping my hand to caress the hilt of my dagger. With a quick readjust to my travel sack, I took off for the alley. “It’s just a way to test my training,” I told the voice in my head. “Don’t want my skills to get rusty.”

I didn’t believe that for a minute.

By the time I reached the small opening between the buildings, the boys were gone. Whoever they were, they were moving fast, probably spurred on by their victim’s loud outcry.

I pulled my dagger and started through the narrow alleyway, keeping my eyes open for anything suspicious. I picked up speed the closer I got to the other end.

The buildings in this part of the city looked older than those near the gate. They rose up like a gnarled forest, blocking out the sun and paving the streets in eerie shadows. For once I was thankful for my Upakan eyes.

The alley ended in a split. I looked both ways and spotted the kidnappers to my right. They were racing for the next street. I took off after them. The boy had been slung over the larger of the two’s shoulder. He wasn’t moving. I hoped he was just unconscious.

They turned left at the next street. I was gaining on them. I stopped at the corner and found they’d only made it a couple buildings up. This was my chance. The vacant road was wide enough for me to move freely, so I tightened my grip on my dagger and took off.

I kept to the balls of my feet, softening the noise of my approach. They seemed unaware of me and I willed them to remain so.

Apparently, I was in good standing with the Creator. Not only did they not turn around, they actually stopped and the larger boy deposited the small kid from his shoulder.

The boy didn’t seem to be unconscious after all. Neither did he seem to be all that scared. I slowed. Something wasn’t right.

The boy turned and smiled.

I skidded to a halt. The hairs on the back of my neck weren’t just standing on end, they were hopping around like jackrabbits in a trap. I felt foolish. I had chased the cabbage leaf straight into my own apple-scented cage.

I started to back away.

“Get’s ‘em every time,” the small boy said with a disturbing chuckle.

“Yeah,” the boy who’d done the carrying said. His own smile revealed he was missing most of his front teeth. “I can always spot the heroes.”

I took another couple steps back, but at the sound of footfalls behind me, I realized the cage door had been shut.

“What’s your rush?” the gap-toothed boy asked.

I turned. There were kids moving in behind me, cutting off my escape. They were armed, most with rough looking bludgeons.

More kids filed in from nearby alleyways.

Their weapons were a mismatched assortment of clubs, poles, wrapped pieces of glass, and a few knives. One boy had a long dagger hanging out the back of his trousers, while the kid with the missing teeth wore a rusty looking shortsword.

I shifted my travel sack around to the front. Everything I owned in the world was in it, except my coin pouch, which I kept tucked in my boot for safekeeping.

For the last eight years, I had been training to become an Upakan warrior. I guessed it was time to prove those skills.

Toothless, as I decided to call the gap-toothed boy, smiled. The sight of him made me want to laugh, if I hadn’t already been too preoccupied with devising a way to get myself out of this situation. I scanned the faces surrounding me, searching for a weak spot. Their eyes told me I wasn’t going to be able to talk my way out.

Along with my training, I was also a wielder. It was something my family had kept hidden from the clans. Wielders were considered a danger to society. Possessing any form of magic earned you a one-way trip with the Black Watch to the White Tower. Most who went there were never heard from again.

Even more unusual than being born a wielder was the fact I had been born with two separate gifts.

“How about you give us a look-see inside that bag?” Toothless said, stepping forward and reaching for my satchel. He clearly felt he had nothing to fear with his fifteen-to-one odds.

I clutched my bag close to my chest and pulled back my hood. “Don’t you recognize what I am?” I was hoping my eyes would be enough of a warning. Most people feared the Upaka.

“What you are is alone, and completely surrounded.” He smirked. “Now are you going to hand over that bag, or am I going to have to pry it from your dead fingers?”

This was just my luck. I hadn’t made it a single morning inside of Aramoor and already I was being accosted by a gang of rabid hooligans.

“You take another step and you’ll be sucking soup for the rest of your days.”

Toothless stared at me and then turned to the others, confusion written on his face. They seemed to share his bewilderment. A few of the kids shrugged and the large boy turned back around. “What?”

I rolled my eyes with a frustrated sigh and pointed at my mouth. “Your teeth. I’m going to knock out the rest of your teeth.” Not only was I being robbed, I was being robbed by a gang of imbeciles.

His puzzled look quickly turned to anger.

I responded by tightening my fingers around the leather grip of my dagger. My eyes darted from one kid to the next, waiting to see who’d make the first move. I slowly slid my right leg back and shifted my weight to stabilize my stance.

I was about to lift my blade when something washed over me. I’d never felt anything like it before. It was as though something inside of me had died. I panicked when I realized what it was.

My magic was gone.

“Who do we have here?” someone called out from behind the blockade of kids surrounding me.

They parted far enough for me to see the girl standing behind them. She had black hair like mine and a red vest.

Up until this point, I had assumed Toothless was their leader, but even he retreated far enough for the girl to see me. She didn’t seem to want to get any closer.

“New arrival,” Toothless said. “Seems to think that bag belongs to him.”

“Does he?”

Things were getting worse by the minute. Taking on five or six kids was one thing, but those numbers had tripled and I couldn’t reach my magic. I was going to have to do this the hard way.

You don’t realize how much you depend on something until it’s gone. My abilities were a part of me. I’d only ever had to fight without them once before, and that was a personal choice, unlike now. One of my gifts was pre-sight. It was the ability to see things before they happened. I wasn’t a seer or anything. I couldn’t prophesy future events. It just gave me a few seconds of warning when something was going to affect me in a physical way.

With this many kids, I could have really used that additional help.

“Stand back,” Toothless said, drawing his shortsword and waving for the others to give him some room. “He’s mine.”

Most of the belongings in my sack were clothes, so I held it out as a padded shield against strikes while gripping my dagger with the other hand. The sack wouldn’t do much good against a sword, but it might stand up against the clubs if it came down to it.

I raised my blade.

Toothless roared and charged. He swung directly for the top of my head. Even without magic, I could see it coming. He clearly had little experience using the weapon. I didn’t even bother trying to block. I sidestepped and rammed the butt of my dagger straight into his mouth. There was a loud cry of pain followed by blood. Lots of blood.

Toothless dropped his sword and covered his face with both hands, trying to hold in what was left of his front teeth. He stumbled backwards, tears coursing down his cheeks. “Kill him!”

The others came at me at once.

I didn’t have time to worry about my bag. I dropped it and grabbed the discarded sword. I’d barely turned around when the first wave hit. They were about as skillful with their weapons as Toothless was, but with their numbers, proficiency didn’t really matter. All it would take was one lucky strike.

I blocked with the sword and cut with my dagger. Kids began dropping all around me. I took a hit to my right arm and nearly dropped the knife. I hadn’t seen it coming. I was off-balance without my magic.

I pushed through the thinnest point in the lines to keep from having to fight everyone at once. I managed to keep two or three of the kids between me and the rest as I fought my way closer to one of the buildings. I needed to keep my attackers from flanking me.

Toothless was still screaming at them to kill me. Even their leader shouted her disappointment. “What’s wrong with you? He’s just one boy, you pack of pathetic weaklings! Are you going to let him embarrass Wildfire like that?”

Their leader’s shouts seemed to spur the kids into an even greater frenzy. I dodged left, twisted and spun right, fighting to stay clear of their clubs. Going for the legs worked best. Once a kid was down, they were less likely to get back up.

My movements felt sluggish, forced. I had to devote most of my energy to compelling my limbs to respond, something I’d never had to do before. For the first time, I felt what it was like to be normal.

My second gift allowed my body to remember coordinated movements and replicate them. While others had to spend hours training every day in order to master a particular skill, I only had to do it once. My mother said I was a repeater, a very useful tool when you found yourself being robbed by a herd of bloodthirsty thugs.

I kicked a boy to my right in the knee. He screamed and went down. I parried a club strike with the shortsword, giving me time to stab a lanky kid in the thigh with my dagger. I twisted to block an attempt at my head.

I couldn’t keep this up. There were just too many of them.

One of the girls got too close and I head-butted her in the face. She squealed and swung wide, clubbing the kid beside her, who took two more down with him. A wild swing with a knobby table leg struck me in the thigh. The muscle cramped. I was barely able to put weight on it.

I blocked two more swings trying to keep from being completely overwhelmed. I kicked off the stone wall behind me and shoved my way into the middle of the pack. It was a lot harder for them to swing their clubs in close. They were just as likely to hit each other as me. I stabbed three legs. Three cries followed. Three more kids went down.

I pushed toward the open road, but something heavy struck me from behind and I tumbled to the ground.

I tried to get up, but whatever it was, it was still on top of me. I was pinned. I tried wiggling free, but the remaining kids grabbed my arms and legs and held me down.

I twisted my head around just enough to see Toothless sprawled on top of me. The blood from his mouth dripped down the side of my face.

“I’m going to kill you . . . slowly.”

It was over. All my dreams of making a name for myself in Aramoor, of winning back my spot in the clans, were gone. I was never going to see my family again. They would never know what happened to their son. Considering the circumstances, that was probably a good thing.

Toothless rolled off me. They pried the weapons from my hands and pulled me to my knees.

“Move aside!” The girl in the red vest pushed her way through the kids, nearly tripping over the injured still sprawled on the cobbles. Her face was as red as her vest.

“Hold him still. It’s my turn.”

There’s nothing quite so humiliating in life as being beaten in front of a pretty girl, unless the one doing the beating happens to be that very girl.

She swung her fist. I hadn’t had a chance to recover from the last one. I was on my knees, held in place by two thugs that looked like they’d rather eat me than fight me. Her fist connected with the side of my face, whipping my head to the right. Something popped. My jaw throbbed, but I held my tongue and hid the pain. I was Upakan after all. We didn’t break.

At least I hoped I wouldn’t.

I was seeing double. The two older boys released my arms and I collapsed. Blood seeped from the corners of my mouth, pooling in the gaps of the worn cobbles beneath me. I rolled over to my back. The buildings on either side of the narrow street towered overhead like the audience from an ancient colosseum—bearing witness to my shame.

The pain was excruciating, nearly as bad as the time I’d fallen from Pike’s Bluff during one of my first solo climbs. That experience, however painful, wasn’t nearly as traumatic as getting pummeled by this girl and her band of psychotic misfits. There were dozens of them now, all standing around cheering her on as she bravely beat an unarmed, defenseless stranger.

She appeared quite fond of applying her fists to my face. The small part of me still clinging to consciousness wondered if it had something to do with the thrashing I’d given her fighters before they overpowered me. It had to be humiliating, a dozen of her best taken down by one boy. I tried to smile but the muscles in my face refused to cooperate.

I stared up at her through blurry eyes. She couldn’t have been much older than me, fifteen or sixteen at most. Her hair fell halfway over her face, only partially hiding the satisfied smirk.

I didn’t lose. I didn’t know how to lose. I hadn’t been beaten this badly since . . . Well, I’d never been beaten this badly. Why these lunatics were so intent on pummeling me into a sack of mush was beyond me. I should have followed my instincts and never gotten involved.

“What’s your name?” the girl with the red vest asked. Her voice was deep. Deeper than mine.

My head felt fuzzy, and I was having a difficult time focusing on her words. Her face was little more than a blur now that both my eyes were swelling shut. “Ayr . . . Ayrion.”

“Where are you from, Ayr . . . Ayrion? I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like that. You sick or something?”

My head was spinning. “I, uh . . .”

“Well, no matter.” I could hear the smile in her voice. She lifted my bag and waved it in front of me. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ayr . . . Ayrion.” She turned and started down the street. “Oh, by the way, welcome to Aramoor.”

I could hear the faint sound of laughter as everything spun out of control and faded into darkness.

A splash of something wet hit my face and tore me away from the peace of my unconsciousness. It must be raining. At least, I hoped it was rain. The thought of a stray dog marking its territory on my head was enough for me to wrench open one of the swollen masses that were my eyes.

No sign of a dingy cur, urinating or otherwise. I exhaled a raspy sigh of relief. At least I had one thing going for me. That was until the drops decided to turn into larger ones. A crack of lightning was the only warning I had before the sky opened and released its flood on top of me. I shook my head. Maybe the rain would wash off some of the humiliation.

The sun had set, leaving the lonely street covered in darkness. The soft glow from the lamp on the corner was hardly enough to cut through the shadows. I wondered how long I’d been out and why nobody had bothered to help. Had no one seen me lying there? What sort of a place let a wounded kid bleed in the streets?

I tried lifting my head.

Bad idea. My body felt like it had been trampled over by a herd of zyntar intent on pounding me with each of their six enormous hooves before passing. The searing pain whispered in my ear to just lie there and let the inevitable happen, but, in the end, I managed to push myself into a sitting position. It was then that I realized that not only was my travel sack with all my worldly possessions gone, but I had been stripped down and left with nothing more than a thin pair of under-trousers. Of course, it wasn’t one of my nicer pairs, but an older one my mother had mended on more than one occasion.

I looked around for any sign of my things, already knowing I wouldn’t find them. From what I could tell I was no longer on the street where the fight had taken place. The buildings were too close. They must have stashed me in an alley somewhere.

My father always said if you’re going to do something, then do it right. Apparently, the girl with the red vest lived by the same motto.

Nauseated, I hacked up a thick wad of blood. I watched as it mingled with the pools of water around my legs. The dizziness had lessened, but my eyes were swollen enough to leave me nearly blind.

I slowly took stock of the damage. It didn’t take a physicker to know some of my ribs had been cracked, if not broken. Every breath felt like a knife sliding further into my chest.

I was rolling my neck when I realized the chain holding my father’s ring was missing.

“No!” I spun around. Pain shot through my chest. I scoured the surrounding area.

No ring.

“Where is it?” I forced myself to stand and wobbled across the worn stone. Desperation took over and I fell to my hands and knees, crawling from one side of the dirty street to the other. I examined every crack, crevice, and puddle, but there was no sign of it. I stumbled into one of the larger holes and lay there, too weak to move.

My world shattered. What started out as a soft whimper quickly turned into a full-on wail. I had only cried this hard one other time: the day I found out I was to be banished from the Lost City, the day I had been forced to leave my home and family behind.

Never had I felt so alone.

“If you’re looking to go swimming,” a voice said behind me, “I’d suggest the potholes over in Cheapside. They tend to be a bit deeper than these.”

I wiped my tears and turned around. There was a short figure standing near the mouth of the alley. His voice sounded young, but with the lamp to his back, all I could see was his silhouette.

I must have looked insane—sprawled out in the middle of the walkway with bare chest and feet, my hair matted to the front of my face—but I was too exhausted and in too much pain to care.

“If you’ve come looking for an easy mark, you’re too late.” I tried to get to my feet, but collapsed back into the pool of water. “I don’t have anything left but my underpants, and if you want those, you’ll have to kill me first.” I managed to stand, trying to appear capable of defending myself, but my traitorous legs quivered like a drunken sot with a full bladder.

The boy moved closer. He was shorter than me and walked with a noticeable limp. What I thought had been some form of mutation was actually a large satchel he was toting over his right shoulder. I hoped, for one desperate moment, it might be mine, but it wasn’t.

I lifted my fists just in case.

“Easy,” the boy said. “Your wet skivvies are the last thing I want.”

The boy turned enough for the street lamp to show his face and I lowered my guard. He was younger than I was. His light brown hair was short, parted to one side–or at least it had been before the downpour. He seemed well kempt compared to the last group of kids I’d met. His face appeared to have been washed within the last week.

“What do you want?”

“Clearly, I want your sodden undergarments.” The boy stood there with a smug look on his face. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny or if he was serious. Even though he looked younger than me, the way he spoke sounded like someone much older.

“Actually, I want to help.”

“Why?”

“Why? Someone offers to help, and the first thing you ask is why? Not very trusting, are you?”

“Today’s my first day in Aramoor,” I said, pointing down at my lack of clothing. “Do I look like I need to be trusting?”

“Good point. You look like you received a royal welcome from one of the tribes and lived to tell about it.”

“Is that who attacked me?” I tried to sound calm but my desperation took over. “Where do I find them?” I stumbled forward, but the boy caught me before I fell. My burst of strength faded. I needed to know who that girl was and where she had taken my father’s ring.

“If you have to ask, then I’d say your best bet is to come with me.” He worked his shoulder up under my arm. “I doubt you’d last the night without my help. With your luck, you’d probably run across the one ruffian out there who’d want your soiled skivvies.” He chuckled to himself.

“I need to get my stuff back. I had a ring–”

The boy grunted. “Your stuff is long gone. You won’t be seeing it again. The sooner you come to grips with that the better you’ll be.” He started us back toward the street. I couldn’t tell who was limping more, me or him.

“You don’t understand. She took my ring. I have to get it back.”

“She?” The boy stopped. “She who?”

“The girl who took it.” I huffed, wondering if the boy was a gimp in the head as well.

“What did she look like?”

“She was about this tall.” I motioned with my hand to show that she was a little taller than myself. “She had black hair down to here.” I pointed to the middle of my back. “Wore a red vest.” Describing her wasn’t difficult. Her image was seared into my memory.

The boy released a heavy sigh and shook his head. “Yeah. That would be Red.” He studied my swollen face. “What did you do to get on her bad side?”

“Do? I didn’t do anything!” I tried to steady myself, but my legs were still shaking. Another outburst like that and I was going to send us both down to kiss the cobble. “Two larger boys grabbed some kid and ran off with him. He was screaming for help.”

The boy shook his head. “You fell for the ol’ kidnap routine.” He chuckled. “That hardly ever works. Most people are too scared to help.” He gave me a curious look. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“I didn’t.”

“So what happened next?”

I took a deep breath and coughed. “When I caught up with them, I realized it was a trap. That’s when they demanded my stuff. When I refused . . .”

“You’re lucky she left you alive. Red doesn’t like to lose, and if you ever embarrass her . . .” The boy tisked. “Let’s just say it’s not a wise thing to do.”

“Where can I find her . . . this Red?”

“You don’t. She finds you.”

We stopped at the corner. The main street was quiet. Most of the windows were dark, shutters drawn and occupants asleep. The boy turned us right and we started walking again.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

I was hardly in a position to turn down help. Instead, I focused on placing one foot in front of the other.

“I’m Reevie,” the boy said as he strained to keep his balance under my weight. His crippled leg wasn’t helping. There was something genuine about him, something that made me want to trust him.

“I’m Ayrion.”

“Well, Ayrion, in case no one has said it yet . . . Welcome to Aramoor.”

Sleep was slow in coming, and when it did, it left me wishing I was awake. My dreams were plagued with nightmares of my abandonment, an all-too-familiar distortion of my own reality.

In them, I was being hunted by someone in a red vest. Sometimes it was Red, other times it was my sister, Rianna. My own mother had worn the vest at one point and chased me out of the house with her ladle, shouting that I was no longer her son.

Through it all, Reevie never left my side. Each time I woke, he was there with another cool compress to place on my head, reassuring me that everything was going to be fine. The foul liquid he forced down my throat was nearly as bad as the injuries. That was my life for the next few days: wake, pain, compress, nasty liquid, and then back to sleep to start the cycle over.

As unexpected as the cruelty of Red’s gang was, the kindness of this little crippled kid was even more so. I really didn’t understand why he was helping me.

Other than my family, this street kid was about the closest I’d ever come to having a real friend. Even within the Upakan clans, I’d been shunned because of what I could do. But, like any other kid who just wants to fit in, I had used my abilities in an effort to gain the approval of those around me. I wished I’d paid more attention to my parents’ warnings, then maybe I wouldn’t be where I was today.

The trembling was gone, passed sometime in the night, but the pain from my beating remained. It wasn’t the shooting pain from earlier, but more of a throbbing ache. My entire body felt strangely numb, my movement sluggish. I tried lifting my head, but it took a few moments before my neck got around to obeying.

A floorboard creaked and I forced my eyes open. “Where . . . where am I?”

“Look who’s finally awake.” Reevie’s voice was soothing. “Still alive, I see.” His expression was composed, pleasant even, despite the dark circles under his eyes. “You’re in my home.”

I turned my head slowly but even that movement caused the room to spin. “I don’t feel very alive. What did you give me? I feel . . . funny.”

“Oh, that. That’s just a tonic I made for times like these.” He limped over to a small shelf on the far side of the room and rifled through a collection of colored bottles. “Bleeding pustules!”

My head shot up at the strange outburst. “What? Where?” I lifted my blanket to peek underneath. Realizing I didn’t have anything on, I yanked it back in place.

Reevie glanced over his shoulder and giggled. “Sorry. I curse in sicknesses. Helps me keep the knowledge fresh.” He tapped his finger on the side of his head.

I cocked my eyebrow. “Knowledge?”

“Yeah. I’m a healer. At least, I’m studying to be.”

The little boy was growing odder by the moment.

“Aha!” He held up a small bottle with some sort of dark liquid and smiled.

“What’s that?” I knew a thing or two about herbs. Upaka learn from a very young age how to survive off the land, what could be used to save life and what could take it. Both were important in our line of work. For hundreds of years, we trained as mercenaries and hired out as assassins, our services rented to the highest bidder. Add in our strange colorless eyes, and the rest of the world had plenty of reasons to shun us.

Reevie shifted from one foot to the other as he held out his bottle of tonic. “I use a number of different herbs, but at the base are: yarrow, willow bark, mandrake, and valerian.” He seemed excited by my interest. I wondered if he was as lonely as I was.

“All of them have strong anesthetic properties, especially the valerian,” he continued. “But I diluted them so their effect wouldn’t be quite so potent. A full dose would put you in a sleep so deep you’d never wake up.”

“That sounds pretty good to me.” I rolled to my side, but my ribs let me know that had been a mistake and I quickly rolled back. “How do you know so much about herbs?”

“My father was a physicker here in Aramoor.”

“Was?”

“The Black Watch took him. Lord Ackelman told everyone that my father was using magic in his healing when the lord’s daughter died. But that was a lie!” Reevie tightened his grip on the jar as if getting ready to hurt it. I raised my pillow in case he did.

“A rat bit her. She had red fever! Everyone knows there’s no cure for red fever! But that wasn’t good enough for Lord Ackleman. He was determined to make my father pay.” Reevie stared at the tops of his tattered boots. They were at least two sizes too big.

“When the Watch showed up, father hid me in the cupboards.” He took a deep breath. “I never saw him again.”

What did one say to that? “I’m sorry.” I shifted my attention to the rest of the room in case he started to cry. I knew how embarrassing that could be, especially between boys. Girls, on the other hand, seemed to find great enjoyment in crying. They cried about the silliest things at the silliest of times, except maybe for Red. She obviously enjoyed making other people cry. One of these days, I was going to return the favor, right after I got my father’s ring back.

Reevie wiped his eyes. “My turn to ask questions.” He pointed to my chest. “What’s all this?” I glanced at my bare skin, which was covered with scars. “And don’t try to tell me it was from your fight with Red’s beaters.”

Each of those markings told a story. Some were training accidents; times where I’d failed to block an instructor’s blade. The jagged scar on my shoulder was from being impaled on a rock while climbing without gear. There were burns from when I’d been dared to hold an ember in my hand. The worst of them, though, was the long, thin scars on my back from an undeserved whipping.

The training to become an Upakan warrior was severe. But that was what made us the best, which sounded a little funny considering I was lying in bed half-dead because I’d decided to do something stupid. Still, I would have liked to have seen another kid my age take on that many attackers and live to tell about it.

Reevie was still waiting for my answer. I rubbed one of the raised slashes on my forearm from a failed parry several years ago. “It’s from my . . . education.”

Reevie’s brows shot up. “Education? Remind me to never attend any classes with you. Why don’t you have any on your face?”

The absence of scars on my face was something I was quite proud of. While most of my classmates had at least one or two scars, thanks to my magic I had been able to avoid such damage—yet another reason why my classmates hated me.

I tried to sit up.

“Whooping cough!” Reevie cursed as he limped his way over to my makeshift bed of old blankets and mismatched cushions. He gently pushed me back down. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I can’t just lie here all day.” A sudden wave of nausea hit and I collapsed back onto the pillows.

“See, I told you.” Reevie grabbed a cloth and wiped my forehead. “You’re fighting an infection. You’re going to need to stay in bed at least a couple more days if you want your body to heal properly.”

“A couple of days?” I tried sitting up again, this time releasing an embarrassing yelp as something in my abdomen felt like it had been cut in two. I collapsed back onto my pillow and took several shallow breaths, waiting for the pain to ease. “I don’t have time to waste. I have to find Red. I’ve got to get my father’s ring back. It’s my only tie to my family.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve already mentioned that,” Reevie said with an unsympathetic flip of his hand as he limped back to his shelf of tonics. “You have to do this. You have to do that. What you have to do is rest and heal. Besides, your ring and satchel, not to mention those boots and nice green cloak, are long—”

“I’m not going to just lie here. I need to—” I quit fidgeting when what he said hit me. “Wait. How did you know I had a black cloak?”

Reevie froze, his back to me. “You told me.”

“I didn’t tell you I had a cloak, let alone what color it was.”

Reevie turned. “I, uh . . . I’m sure you told me about it.”

I glared at him, waiting.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in submission. “So, I might have been passing by your street a little earlier than I let on.”

“Earlier? What do you mean earlier?”

“Well, let’s just say I happened to catch your little scuffle with Red’s beaters. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. You took down half her guard before they knew what hit them. It was amazing.”

I was stunned. “Why didn’t you do something?”

He looked at me like I was insane. “What was I going to do? If I’d opened my mouth, I would have been right there beside you.”

“You could have gotten help? What about the patrol?”

Reevie started laughing. “Are you crazy? The patrollers are worse than the tribes.” His smile faded. “Look. I was being selfish. I figured you stood a fair chance of surviving and that it would probably be in my best interest to have someone like you around. So, I helped you out. It was a strategic decision, nothing more. I save your life, and now you’ll owe me.”

That was a miserable reason for helping someone. There was a long silence as we stared at each other. I wasn’t exactly sure what to say. I supposed Reevie had his own sort of code for surviving on the streets, and I couldn’t very well fault him for looking after himself. Besides, if he hadn’t, I’d probably still be lying in that abandoned alleyway.

Reevie went back to his scavenging and I took the opportunity to get a better look at where I was. The walls were mostly brick with age-worn plaster. The ceiling joist looked to be supporting another floor above us, and by their size, a large one at that. There were candles scattered around the room on boxes, broken shelves, and old barrels. Reevie had either found an abandoned house or a shop with a storage cellar, or had somehow managed to rent one. It was possible he was simply squatting here, but I didn’t think that likely.

“Here, eat this.” Reevie hobbled back to my bed and handed me a couple slices of cheese and a hunk of bread. I stuffed both in my mouth and barely chewed before swallowing. It was either the best tasting cheese and bread I’d ever eaten or I was a whole lot hungrier than I thought.

Reevie smiled at the look on my face. “It’s not exactly fresh, but the bread’s still soft.”

“It’s good.” I licked my lips and belched my thanks.

“Well, you can stay here as long as you like. I’ve got plenty of room. And there’s more where that came from,” he said, pointing to the remaining piece of cheese I had gripped in my left hand. “I know you’ll be happy here, and when you get to feeling better, I can show you around Aramoor.”

I coughed. “No offense, but I think I’ve seen enough of your city to last me a lifetime.”

“Bloody flux!” Reevie said with a dismissive wave. “You haven’t seen anything but the butt-end. Just you wait, when you’re back on your feet, I’m going to take you places that’ll bring tears to your eyes.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but I think I’ve had enough of that already.”

Reevie laughed and so did I.

The days seemed to drag on and on, and the nights weren’t much better. My jailer had me bound to my bed with little to do but stare at the walls and rafters. By the time he let me do anything beyond sitting up, I’d counted every brick within sight at least four or five dozen times.

Every day, it was the same question: “When can I get up?” Every day, I’d get the same answer: “Not long now.” I was wearing him down, though. I could see it in his eyes.

Sure enough, the next day, he gave me permission to test my strength. I made it all of two and half steps before gravity took over and I toppled onto the floorboards, taking a set of boxes down with me.

Reevie just stood there shaking his head with an I-told-you-so look smeared across his face. But I didn’t let it get me down. Pretty soon, I was back on my feet and moving about. That was, I was able to hobble from a stack of boxes to an old barrel, and then back to my bed. The pain was still there, but slightly duller thanks to the herbal tonics Reevie continued pouring down my throat.

Reevie was astonishingly resourceful for a crippled street rat. He had somehow managed to procure an entire cantermelon. One side was showing sign of age, but it was still sweet. I had no idea where the food came from, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was more concerned with stuffing mine full of the soft, yellow nectar.

“You’re getting around better.” Reevie limped his way down the stairs and plopped his carry bag on a barrel at the bottom.

It took me a while to answer. I was savoring the last bite of melon.

“I am,” I finally said as I slurped in the juices seeping from the corners of my mouth. “When can I go outside?”

Reevie prodded a couple of my deeper cuts and then felt my ribs. I fought to hide how much they still hurt. “I’d give it another day or two. You need to get to where you can move around on your own before going up there.”

I knew what he meant. I needed to heal enough to be able to survive on the streets. But there was more to surviving than just being healthy.

I glanced at his gimp leg. “How have you . . .” I wasn’t sure how to word it delicately.

“Managed to survive with this?” he asked, patting the top of his right leg. “Not easily.” He sat on a small upturned crate labeled Herring. “It’s hard enough even without a leg like mine. The best you can do is beg, unless you find a group to take you in. Out there on the streets, you can’t survive on your own. You need a place to belong.”

“You seem to be doing well enough on your own.”

Reevie rolled his eyes. It was an expression I was getting used to seeing whenever I opened my mouth. “I might choose to live here,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m on my own.”

I glanced around the dimly lit room as if expecting someone to come hopping out of the shadows and surprise me.

“Not here, nitwit; out there. To survive, you must band together. Find people you trust to watch your back. Where did you think the food you’ve been eating came from?”

“I was afraid to ask.” I doubted Reevie would have an apprenticeship in his condition, so naturally, I figured he had applied sleight of hand to what he brought home.

“It’s from my tribe.”

Reevie had used that word before when talking about Red and her gang. I was keen to learn more. “What’s a tribe?”

“Don’t you have tribes where you come from? Where do all the street kids live?” Reevie rubbed his nose. “Come to think of it, where are you from?”

I was surprised he didn’t already know. “I’m Upakan. I figured my eyes would have given it away. We live up north in the underground ruins of the Lost City.

“Hmm, I’ve never met an Upaka before.”

“That’s probably a good thing.”

Reevie studied my eyes with interest. “I just thought you had some form of deficiency. I guess your ability to fight makes more sense now.”

“To answer your question, no, we don’t have tribes or street kids. We have clans. Each is made up of a select group of families.”

“That’s sort of the same thing,” Reevie said. “We just call them tribes here. The Warrens have clans, but you don’t want to go in there.”

“The Warrens?”

“Forget about the Warrens.” He wiped his hand down the front of his face. “Oy, I keep forgetting you’re not from here. Let me see if I can explain this a little better. Everyone on the streets must belong to a tribe. It’s street law. If you don’t belong to a tribe, you can’t work, which means you can’t get food. Basically . . . you die.”

My jaw tightened. I didn’t like the sound of that. To be honest, there wasn’t much about this place I liked the sound of.

“In order to gain membership into a tribe, you have to be of some value. Typically, with a leg like mine, I would end up getting branded a reject, but because of my knowledge of medicines, I’ve been allowed a place.”

Without realizing it, I had clenched my fists. Part of what he had said struck close to home. It reminded me of Upakan society. Those physically able to fight would be given the right to join the ranks of warriors, earning the respect of those within the clans, while those less fitting were sent to the top to cultivate the crops and managed the livestock. Not saying there was anything wrong with either, but most tended to look down on those not wearing the black ring.

I had spent my entire life training so that one day I could claim the title as warrior. Had I been guilty of the same? Had I looked down on those not able to do the same? I hoped not. I’d never thought about it before. Just because a person was a cripple didn’t mean they had no worth. Reevie was living proof. If it wasn’t for him, I would probably have already been dead.

“There are five tribes. Each is named after a natural force. There’s Hurricane—the tribe I belong to—Avalanche, Rockslide, Sandstorm, and Wildfire. And then there’s the Guild. It controls the tribes.”

“The Guild?”

Reevie chuckled. “Pretty silly if you ask me. As much as those on the streets shun the idea of having some all-powerful ruling class telling us what to do, like regular society, we go and organize one of our own. The Guild acts like the Senate in that they give themselves the authority to make the laws, enforce those laws, and punish anyone who doesn’t follow them. Namely us—” He pointed to himself. “—the poor workers who don’t get a say. But in all fairness, if not for the Guild, we would be seeing a whole lot more street wars taking place.”

I tried to wrap my mind around the politics of it all. I had a lot to learn if I was going to make it in Aramoor. It looked like I had a pretty good teacher in Reevie. The time he’d spent learning the physicker trade from his father had given him a much older and wiser view on life. He often acted like an adult rather than a ten or eleven-year-old.

Of everything Reevie had tried explaining, one question still ate at me. “Which tribe is Red’s?”

“Wildfire.” He stuck his finger in my face, eyes narrowed. “But don’t you get any ideas. You listening to me? Whatever you’re thinking . . . stop.”

I raised my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Reevie lowered his gaze, but I knew he’d be keeping a close eye on me from now on.

No matter what I decided to do about Red, the rest of my options seemed a hopeless mess. In order to eat, you had to work. In order to work, you had to be a member of a tribe, but in a tribe, you had no say in anything that was done; no vote as to the work you were to do, or how to do it. Your job was simple—obey or die.

I had the feeling I wasn’t going to fit in too well.

After a week and a half of sitting on my hands, I was eager to leave our candle-lit hovel and take Reevie up on his offer to see the sights.

We started up the rickety staircase. Reaching the first landing, we rounded the corner to head up to the next. “Watch it. Don’t step on that one,” Reevie said, pointing at the rung where I was about to place my foot. “It’s for unwelcome guests.”

My foot hovered as I studied the wooden plank. It looked safe enough, but the twisted amusement on Reevie’s face said otherwise, so I followed his example and stepped over it to the next.

Reevie chuckled. “The bottom is scored. If anyone was to step on it, they’d go right through and I’d hear them.” The little boy chuckled. “Once their leg is caught in the hole, they’re mine.” He raised his hands in the air as if holding a bludgeon, and whacked an imaginary trespasser over the head.

I wondered how I had managed to miss that step when I first arrived. The night Reevie had rescued me was somewhat of a mystery. From the time Reevie had carried me home until the time I first woke on his bed, I had no memory of anything.

Reevie was still chuckling at the sadistic humor of his trap when we stepped out of his dark underground hideaway and into the building above. Damp air and iron-grey light greeted us. The new day had not yet fully dawned. I stretched with a yawn. Something about the morning sun always did that to me.

The space above our sleeping chambers was much bigger than I had expected. It had been a warehouse or factory, but clearly hadn’t seen service in years. The soft light flooding in through the windows filtered through a heavy layer of dust. Apart from the natural creaking of the building’s timbers and the skittering of hungry rats looking for their next meal, the place was quiet.

“Where are we?”

“One of the old granaries back when this used to be the main shipping district.”

“Who owns it?”

Reevie shrugged. “Don’t know. Ever since they opened the northern port and moved all the warehouses over there, most of these older buildings have been left vacant.”

“I’m surprised there aren’t other people living here. There’s plenty of space.” I stomped my foot on the floor. “And it seems sturdy enough.”

“It’s not the building that keeps people away. It’s the location. We’re just south of Cheapside, which puts us on the outer edge of the old city. Most people refer to it as the Warrens.”

This piqued my interests. “You’ve mentioned that name before. What is it?”

Reevie headed for the doors at the front. “I’ll show you.”

The colors in the sky were breathtaking as we stepped outside the granary and into a small loading yard at the front. Gold laced with pink and burgundy melted into a rich blue and lavender as the clouds stretched further east.

“The next street up is Mora,” Reevie said, pointing off to the right. “Once you cross, you’ll be in the Warrens.”

I studied the area. The buildings down the street were packed together, crammed even more tightly than what I had seen of Cheapside. There was an air of great age to them. Most of the buildings I’d seen on this part of the city were built of lath and plaster. The Warrens looked to have been constructed of old stone.

“It’s said to be the oldest part of Aramoor. They cut the stone from the bay when the first High King decided to build his city here.”

“Doesn’t look all that scary,” I said as my eyes hopped from one building to the next. “There’s no one there.”

Reevie snorted. “They don’t live up here. They’re down there.” He stamped his foot on the hard-packed clay.

I scratched my head and glanced at the print his boot had made in the dirt. “Down where?”

“Underground tunnels. The Warrens is a network that runs under the old city. Some say it extends all the way into the new. No one knows for sure. Not even the lancers will go down there. Nobody wants to mess with the clans.”

“Sounds like the perfect place to hide.”

“Yeah, if you want to wind up without your hands and feet. No one goes down there without invitation, and even having one doesn’t mean you’ll come back up.” Reevie shivered. “Best to stay on this side of Mora, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Well, from what little I’ve seen of Aramoor so far, it does seem to be an impressive city.”

Reevie burst into a fit of laughter that ended in a rather embarrassing round of snorting.

“What’s so funny?”

“That’s like looking at a girl’s big toe and describing how pretty she is.” Reevie shook his head and limped his way up the short drive toward the main road. “Come on. If you want to see Aramoor, I’ll show you Aramoor.”

I’d never seen so many people in all my life.

The streets were full of them: tall people, short people, fat people, skinny people, some with big eyes, some with round chins. There were narrow cheeks, protruding noses, wide foreheads, and bulbous ears; a few had hair down to their waist while others had no hair at all. Not at all like Upakan society where everyone wore very similar garb, the people in Aramoor seemed to pride themselves on their individuality.

Living in the underground tunnels of the Lost City tended to breed out claustrophobia, but here in Aramoor, the mere act of walking down the street was enough to send my heart racing and make breathing difficult. I clenched my fists to keep them from noticeably shaking.

Unlike the streets outside the granary, where half the cobbles were missing and the potholes were large enough to bathe in, the streets and walkways within the newer districts were well-maintained. Most of the stones looked to have been replaced within the last few years, judging by their lack of wear.

The city itself seemed to transform as we moved from one section to another. Not only did the styles and shapes of the buildings change, but the people as well. Clothing went from simple trousers and tunics of rough cloth and bland colors to costumes with so many shapes and layers that it was hard to spot the individual underneath. How they managed to suffer through the summer heat wearing sweltering amounts of opulent clothing was a mystery. One I wasn’t in any hurry to solve. I quickly realized our job was to keep out of their way as they strolled by, noses stuck in the air.

Another aspect that separated the sections of Aramoor from each other was the variance in speech. In Cheapside, the dialogue was loud, abrasive, with a touch of get-out-of-my-way thrown in for good measure. It was a dialect for people who didn’t want to communicate: half-spoken words, arm and head gestures, grunts and whistles. Instead of politely asking someone to step aside, a whistle and a jerk of the thumb was all you got.

West of Cheapside, we crossed through the outer edge of what Reevie said was the new shipping district. Most of the residents were men who spent their lives on the open waters, and women and children who waited patiently for them to come home. Of course, there were also plenty of the other kind of women, those with heavily-painted faces and scantily-covered bodies, also waiting for the ships to return. I tried not to look in their direction when we passed, but it was difficult with all the winks and calls they sent our way. It didn’t take long to realize which houses were off limits.

Most of the sailors went about their daily chores topless, their skin dark from exposure. Their trousers were baggy and tied off just above the calf. The old pair of trousers Reevie had lent me was short enough on my legs that I appeared to fit right in.

Reevie was right. The sailor’s speech had a strong flavor of the sea. To me, it sounded redundant at times. For example, their use of the word ‘be.’ “Would ye be likin’ a tour of our ship, young sirs? She be the finest vessel this side of the Blue Isles. And that be no lyin’.” But it was a fun way to talk, and I found myself smiling as I followed along.

Just north of the shipyards was Bayside with all its grand estates overlooking the blue waters of the Bay of Torrin. We hadn’t wandered too far inside before one of the patrollers chased us back out. I considered how we must have looked in our worn shoes and tattered clothing. It was obvious people like us were not welcome in the realm of the upper class. I doubted I’d have liked it much anyway. Trying to keep my nose in the air the way they did left a kink in my neck.

The closer we got to the Merchant District the grander the buildings grew and more packed the streets became: shoppers coming and going, street vendors calling out their wares—those unlucky enough to not possess the gold necessary to open their own shops. Dirty street kids with nimble fingers darted in and around the patrons while patrollers in their notable royal blue capes stood ready to give chase. It was a living, breathing chaos that moved in an order of its own. There was a natural sort of rhythm to it; like waves crashing against the shore, it ebbed and flowed.

The noise alone was enough to drown my thoughts. I fought the urge to cover my ears: horses’ whinnies, riders’ whips, merchants’ calls, heavy-heeled shoes on stone, wagon wheels, children’s excited shouts as they hurried their parents towards the next shop, thousands of people, each unaware of anything outside their own small sphere.

“This way!” Reevie shouted above the crowd. “Don’t stop in the middle of the road.”

I followed his example and kept to his heels as we crossed. “Why’s that?”

“It’s the carriages. The drivers are ordered to—”

As if on cue, a large white and gold barouche flew around the corner, its top down in the summer heat. A fat man layered in blue and gold silks with a bored expression on his painted face sat in the back on blue velvet cushions, his wife next to him. The driver spurred the two horses with a crack of the whip. People all along the center of the avenue rushed to get out of the way, some practically diving to keep from getting hit.

A woman in the crowd screamed. “My son!” I turned to see what was going on. People around me were pushing and shoving to get a better view.

There in the middle of the street was a small child making his way across the now empty cobbles. He was trying to catch a large frog as it hopped from one stone to the next.

My breath caught. I looked at the driver; his eyes were wide, but he showed no sign of slowing. I looked back at the crowd. No one moved. I was dumbfounded. What was wrong with these people? Were they all just going to sit there and watch this child get trampled to death?

Men shouted their disgust while women clutched their children and covered their eyes. All around, people murmured words of pity for the young mother about to lose her little boy, but still not a single man, woman, or child stepped forward to do anything about it. The young mother wailed, trapped too far back in the crowd to reach her son.

I pushed my way between two men who watched as if it were little more than a paid performance from a theatrical troupe. I could see the horses from the corner of my eye. I could feel the tremor of their hooves as they beat the ground, closing the distance.

Without hesitation, I released the barrier holding back my magic. Like the breaking of a dam, its warmth flooded through me and filled me with life. I never liked being parted from it, but since my injuries, I had been sparing in its use. The magic fed on my own strength, and if used during a weakened state it could kill me.

As soon as the magic was released, I was struck with my first vision. I saw the horses’ deadly charge, the carriage as it rolled over me. I flinched, but it was something I’d grown used to. My grandfather had been given the same gift. It ran in the family. It only seemed to rear its head when there was a direct threat to the wielder, and even then, it only gave me a quick glimpse with a few seconds warning.

I took a deep breath and rushed forward, leaving Reevie to shout at me from the side of the street. My timing had to be exact or I was going to end up trampled along with the boy. The horses were closing quickly. I didn’t need to turn to know they were just behind me. I could hear their snorts, practically smell the sweat from their hides. My mouth was dry, but I tried swallowing anyway.

Three. Two. One. I dove. My arms wrapped around the boy as his hands wrapped around the slimy croaker. We tumbled to the side and rolled clear of the deadly hooves, but not before the team spooked and reared. Their sudden halt threw the overly painted man and his wife across the carriage to face-plant in the seats on the other side.

The crowd gasped. With a proud look on my face, I helped the little boy back to his feet and walked him over to his mother. By the people’s reaction, you’d think they’d never seen a selfless act before. It took me a moment to realize that no one was even looking at me. They didn’t seem to care whether the child had been crushed or not. They were too busy helping the fat fop and his ugly wife back to their cushions.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” the child’s mother sobbed. She grabbed the two of us and pulled us close. I think she kissed me just as much as she kissed her son. Truth be told, I didn’t mind. “Laris, what were you thinking running out there like that!” she scolded the boy. “What have I told you about leaving my side?”

“Momma, look.” Laris raised his hands for his mother to see his slimy new pet. After everything I had just done to save its life, the wretched thing actually had the audacity to belch at me. I shook my head.

The woman reached into her bag and pressed a gold coin into my hands. “I can’t thank you enough.” She glanced at my sad state and patted me on the head. “Buy yourself some new clothes.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I offered what I thought was an appropriate bow. I was about to say something more when a commotion broke out behind us.

“There!” The obese man in the white suit stood from his carriage and pointed at us. “That boy right there! He’s the one! Get him!” I turned around to warn Laris, but neither the boy nor his mother were anywhere to be seen. Then it dawned on me who the overly dressed pincushion was referring to.

Reevie rushed over, out of breath and terrified. “Black Pox, Ayrion! We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”

For the first time since we left the granary this morning, I was thankful for all the people. Four blue-caped patrollers responded to the fat man’s cries. They drew their cudgels and charged, shouting as they came.  Reevie grabbed my arm and we dove into the crowd on the far side of the street.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I darted through the sea of bodies to match Reevie’s steps.

“We’re being chased is what’s going on!” Reevie limped as fast as he could.

“I know that much. But why?”

“Maybe because you just tossed Lord Gerrick and his wife around like a couple of button dolls in the middle of the square. I’m sure he wants to decorate his study with your head.”

I was already winded. My body was on the mend, but it was far from being ready for an all-out street chase. I was having trouble keeping up with Reevie and his gimp leg. “Who’s Lord Gerrick?”

“He’s only the biggest supporter for cleaning up the unwanted from Aramoor’s streets.” He glanced to his side. “Mainly us.”

I didn’t say more. I couldn’t. I had to put all my focus into breathing. What was it about this city that had me running for my life every time I stepped outside? We fought our way through the surge of bodies, skirting legs and dodging arms, praying we could duck into an alley.

We had one thing in our favor. We were the perfect size for disappearing. Reevie’s head barely rose above the taller men’s waistlines while mine reached their chests. I was shocked at how well my crippled friend was able to move through the crowd. Even with his gimp leg, he never missed a step.

I, on the other hand, was nothing short of a clumsy dolt. I’m pretty sure I hit more people than I missed. I was a little preoccupied with trying to keep my bare feet from being squashed by heavy boots or stabbed by stray heels.

I knocked one lady carrying a small mountain of parcels off her feet. I wanted to stop and help her up but I could hear the patrollers gaining ground behind us. It sounded like they were having a difficult time parting the crowds.

I tossed a quick apology over my shoulder and ran. She was too busy hurling accusations, and shrieking for the patrollers, to hear me. But, at least she was kind enough to slow the patrollers down for us. She latched on to one of their legs, demanding he not only catch the dirty street rat who had tried to kill her, but that he help her up and recover her packages while he did it.

I smiled at our luck and kept running.

I had no idea where we were going, but Reevie never once hesitated in his direction. We broke out of the flowing current of bodies and ducked between two towering stone buildings. I suddenly knew what it felt like to be ant in a forest of elder pine.

Tripping over some discarded debris, I stumbled forward and went down. An alley cat leaped out of a bucket and hissed its outrage at my disturbance of its meal. I apologized and pulled my sore foot out of the crate I’d just stuck it through. Thankfully, it hadn’t found a rusty nail.

“This way. Hurry!” Reevie was already halfway down the narrow lane by the time I crawled around the piles of trash. I took off as fast as my legs would carry me.

“Get back here!” I was only a few steps away from Reevie when the shout echoed off the corridor behind us. I turned to see three of the four men in blue capes working their way through the piled garbage.

“Stop, or you’ll regret it!”

“I think we’ll regret it even more if we do.” I grabbed Reevie’s arm and pushed him forward. Reevie grunted, half-running, half-hobbling between another pair of buildings as we rushed for the next street.

We spilled out of the alley and onto a smaller street where the traffic wasn’t quite bursting at the seams. We skirted the edge of the crowd, often only a hand’s width from the shops themselves. Scents assaulted us as we passed, teasing us of the shop’s contents: tanned leather, rich chocolate, fermentation, wood shavings, strong herbs. Each new aroma sparked my curiosity a little more. By the time I noticed my mind had wandered, and turned to ask where we were going, I realized my guide was nowhere to be found.

I froze.

I’d learned at an early age that the worst thing to do when lost was to wander about trying to get un-lost. Living in an underground labyrinth of tunnels as I had, getting lost had become something of a hobby. The best thing to do was to stop and wait for someone to find me, preferably while making as much noise as possible. Unfortunately, that particular approach would only get me captured.

I glanced left and then right, finally spinning in a circle as I scanned every face frantically searched for Reevie. He wasn’t there.

Behind me, the patrollers burst from the alleyway. The fourth man had apparently managed to catch up with the others. He was the first to spot me as he pointed and charged. I was about six or seven pavilions away, with a host of shoppers between, but that didn’t stop them in the least. People were thrown aside, those too preoccupied with shopping, or too stupid to move on their own, soon learned the value of paying attention as the patrollers barreled through.

I didn’t understand what I had done to deserve such hostility. I had saved a child from a horrible death. Sure, some fancy lord had been tossed around his carriage, but he’d landed on a pillow. I shook my head. Aramoor might have been spectacular to look at, but it was as dangerous as an Upakan blade, and growing more cutthroat by the moment.

I sighed. Still no sign of Reevie. I guessed it was every kid for himself. I turned to leave when someone grabbed my shoulder. I spun, fists up.

“It’s me!” Reevie hissed and pulled me toward one of the shops. “This way!” He dove through the open door, taking me with him.

This was a mistake. At least outside we had the ability to keep running, but now Reevie had trapped us in a confined space with only one exit. The inside of the shop was crowded with rows of tall shelves crammed with books.

“Quick, in here!” An older man with a slightly hunched back and short grey beard flipped back a bland green and gold tasseled rug near the front desk, revealing a trapdoor underneath.

I desperately tugged at the metal ring. It creaked open. I half-expected to see a set of stairs leading down to a cellar, but it was nothing more than a pocket beneath the floor boards. I tossed Reevie inside and practically jumped on top of him. The old man closed the door and I could hear the rug thump back into place.

What little light there had been between the cracks in the floorboards disappeared as a cloud of dust rained down on our heads. I grabbed my mouth and pinched my nose, willing myself not to sneeze. I could hear my heart pounding as we lay on our backs and listened to heavy footfalls fill the shop above us.

“How well do you trust this old man?” I whispered.

“With my life.”

I nodded, not like I had much choice either way. I closed my eyes and prayed Reevie’s faith in the man hadn’t been misplaced.

I could hear raised voices, but the rug dampened the sound so I had to strain to hear.

“Two boys. One about yea high . . . the other about so.”

“Boys? I don’t have any boys,” the old shopkeeper said. “My boys are all grown up.”

“Not you, you old fool. Two ragamuffins that just came through here. Did you see them?”

“Muffins? My wife makes the best blueberry muffins in Aramoor.”

There was an impatient groan. “The taller one had dark hair to his shoulder.  The shorter one had light brown, maybe half as long. Walked with a limp.”

“Of course I have a limp,” the old man said. “That’s why I have this cane, you brainless sack of potatoes. Now if you are quite through, I’ve got orders to fill.”

“Search the place. They’ve got to be in here somewhere.”

I could hear heavy things dropping onto the floor above us, sending down wave after wave of dust onto my face. I covered my face as best I could.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” the older man hollered. I could hear him strike something with his cane, probably his desk. “Get out of my shop! You’ve got no right to come in here and mess with my books!”

“Shut your mouth before they mess with you.”

The book merchant didn’t respond. I held my breath as they continued their search. After what seemed a small eternity, all the boots reconvened right over us.

“Anything?”

No one spoke.

“If we find out you’ve been hiding street rats in here, we’ll close your shop and arrest you and your wife for harboring felons. That means the dungeons.” Heavy boots clomped their way to the door and the bell signaled their departure.

The dungeons? That seemed a pretty harsh sentence for someone wanting to help hungry children. However, if most of the street rats were anything like Red and her gang, I could see why the patrollers were anxious to round them up. They were a deranged group of thugs.

Finally, the rug rolled back and the trapdoor opened. I squinted at the light. I hopped out of the cramped hidey-hole and helped Reevie up before dropping the door back into place and flipping the green and gold tasseled rug back over. Once again, a puff of white dust lifted off the floor. The shop was in clear need of attention.

“I’m sorry, Master Fentin,” Reevie said. “I never meant for this to happen.”

The book merchant locked the door, then pulled the shades before turning around with a heavy sigh. The shop was in shambles. Books covered the floor five or six volumes deep. It looked like the men had just walked down the aisles and swiped them from their places in a single volley.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said as he hobbled over to the first shelf for a better look. “Been meaning to re-alphabetize these things for years. Just hadn’t had a good reason to until now.” He looked at Reevie and chuckled. “So, what were they after you for this time?”

“It wasn’t me,” Reevie said with a nod in my direction. “It was Ayrion. He saved some kid from being run over by Lord Gerrick.” Reevie spat the name out like a sour grape. “The horses got spooked and threw the lord and his lady from one side of the carriage to the other.”

Master Fentin reared back and bellowed out a fit of high-pitched laughter hard enough that I thought he was going to end up on the floor. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his balance with the help of his cane. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks, my boy.” He smacked the end of his stick across his desk. “What I would have given to see that.” He thrust a wrinkled hand in my direction. “I’d like to shake hands with you, young sir. Any time you have need of a place to hide, I’m here.”

I took Master Fentin’s hand. He had a firm grip. I wanted to say I had done what anyone would, but after what we’d just been through, that hardly seemed true. “Thank you, sir. I’m new to the city. Reevie helped me out after I was mugged by a gang of cutthroats—”

“It was Wildfire,” Reevie interjected. Master Fentin must have known who he meant because he puckered his lips and nodded. Just the thought of Red was enough to get my blood boiling.

Master Fentin placed a hand on Reevie’s shoulder. “Aye, you can’t find better than Reevie for rounding up lost strays, that’s for sure. Now let me get a look at you.” He grabbed a pair of spectacles suspended by a thin chain attached from his jacket pocket and perched them on the edge of his nose. “Hmm, thought so. Upakan, am I right?”

I nodded.

“I’ve only come across one of your people before, and that was many years ago. But it was an experience I’d never forget. Killed five men he did, with his bare hands. Most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Are all your people taught to fight like that?”

“Yes, sir, from birth. Upaka means warrior in the old tongue.”

“Actually, Upaka is often mistranslated. Here.” He left us standing there and made his way to a shelf at the back of the shop that had somehow remained untouched by the patrollers. He pulled a large volume and started thumbing through the pages. “Ah, here we go.” He walked back to the front and laid it on the desk. He traced a finger down the page, stopping on a passage written in a tight cramped hand. “The word Upaka is a derivative of the ancient word Upakora. Its closest direct translation isn’t warrior. It’s . . . protector.”

“Protector?” Reevie huffed. “That fits. It was your—” Reevie cleared his throat, “—protecting that got us into this mess in the first place.”

Master Fentin closed the book and plopped on the stool next to his desk. He stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time before speaking. “So, what is one of the Upaka doing so far from home?”

Reevie edged closer, trying—and failing—to not look eager to hear my answer. He’d never asked me about my past, and up until this point, I hadn’t seen a need to share it, at least not much of it.

I thought about lying, spinning a tale so wild and exciting that whether you believed it or not, it was just plain fun to hear. My father was a master storyteller. He could make you believe, or at least want to believe, whatever he desired just from the way he talked about it. I didn’t have the gift. My stories tended to be too rigid, too detailed and structured. By the time I got around to the make-believe part, no one would.

This probably wasn’t the best time to try anyway. Straight and to the point would be best, peel off the bandage nice and quick and hope the pain isn’t too excruciating. I took a deep breath. “I’m here because . . . because I killed someone.”

Neither Reevie nor Master Fentin said a word. I think Reevie’s eye twitched. His mouth sagged open but recovered quickly. I pretended not to see it. I’d been dreading this moment. Nothing like telling the person who saved your life and offered you a place to stay that they were in fact sheltering a murderer—great way to quickly lose your sleeping arrangements.

“Well, go on, son,” Master Fentin said as he rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand. “I hope that’s not the end of the story.”

“No. It’s just the most important part,” I said.

“Well, I’ll have to disagree with you there, my boy. For example, what if you were to tell us that the reason you killed this person was because you had some sort of malediction; that whenever you heard the name Reevie, you felt compelled to kill the owner of that name. That would tend to be the most important part, I think.” He chuckled and poked Reevie in the arm, but Reevie didn’t look amused. “The motive behind the action is most often just as important as the action itself.”

“I guess you have a point,” I said with a shrug. “Where should I start?”

“Ah . . .” the old man gestured toward the open room. “Just like a book, every story has a beginning, a middle, and eventually an end. How about we start at the beginning.”

I took another deep breath and released the tension from my shoulders. I climbed up on a stool at the edge of the table and let my legs dangle over the end. “How much do you know about my people?” Master Fentin and Reevie shared a blank look. “Well, to be a member of the clans, we each have to swear on our sixth birth year to obey the Shal’Noran. It’s a set of rules handed down to us by our ancestors as a way to keep good order and stability.

I hadn’t thought about it before, but I guess it was a stern system compared to the way everyone out here seemed to live. But I liked the orderliness of it, the strict routine of our classes and training, even the competitions for advancement. It was why I was finding it difficult to adjust to a world where it seemed like chaos was the glue that held everything together.

“Above all else, there is one principle we all live by. No matter what happens, we are never to kill another Upaka.”

“What if they tried to kill you first?” Reevie asked.

“What if it was by accident?” Master Fentin chimed in.

“First of all, no Upaka would intentionally try to kill another because they know what would happen to them if they did. In the case of an accident, the leaders convene and make a ruling.”

“What if you killed someone’s pet?” Reevie asked, obviously thinking he’d thought of a way to trip me up. “Like maybe their dog wouldn’t stop barking and you fed it some milkweed or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Unless the dog took the oath, then it isn’t considered an Upaka.”

“Then what if you killed a baby?”

“Why would I kill a baby?”

Reevie shrugged. “I don’t know. What if you did? They clearly haven’t taken the oath—”

“Okay, okay.” Master Fentin raised his hands to calm us down. “I think we get the picture. So what led up to the death of the unfortunate individual?”

“His name was Flon–”

“Flon?” Reevie’s mouth started to curl as he tried to hold in the chuckle.

I ignored him and kept going. “Flon was the oldest in my group and he let us know it. It didn’t help that his father was the head of our clan. Near the end of his testing for promotion into the next phase of training, I was picked to be the one for him to prove his skill against in combat.” I grimaced. “Obviously, a poor choice on their part.”

Reevie nodded with a snort. “You think.”

“Flon already didn’t like me because of my—” I caught myself, realizing I had almost told them about my magic. “My ability to fight. His father secretly threatened my family that if I didn’t allow his son to win, he’d make sure we never received another contract.”

“What’s a contract?” Reevie asked.

“You probably don’t want to know. Anyway,” I said, moving on from that particular subject, “I figured if I had to let Flon win, I wasn’t going to make it easy on him, not when the entire clan was there to watch, so I made sure to give them a good fight.”

“I bet you did,” Reevie said with a smile.

“Unfortunately, it was too good of a fight. By the end, I’d embarrassed him way beyond what I should have. When it came time for me to fake my defeat, Flon threatened to have his father banish my family and give my sister to him for bonding. Something in me snapped. When he came at me, I used his momentum to throw him off balance. Instead of landing a knockout blow to my head, he dropped on his own and snapped his neck.”

Reevie released a soft whistle.

“When the head of the clan has a front row seat to his own son’s death, he tends to hold a particularly nasty grudge. No matter what my father and mother said, he wasn’t about to listen. Because of the accidental nature of the death and it being so widely witnessed, the Primary couldn’t have me executed, but he did force the council to have me banished instead. And it seems I’ve been running for my life ever since.”

Even though I knew the sentence to be harshly unjust, I also knew it was the clan’s way of dealing with someone who didn’t quite fit in, someone like me whose abilities tended to get them into trouble more often than not. I glanced at the old rug covering the trapdoor and chuckled. “Must be the Creator’s way of punishing me.”

Master Fentin smacked his cane on the floor. “I hardly think the Creator’s in the business of castigating little boys for defending themselves against bullies. It was clearly not your fault. Although, I’m sure that doesn’t ease the loss of your family.” The merchant studied my face. “How long has it been, son?”

“Been for what?”

“Since you’ve seen them?”

I tried to picture my family in front of me: my father with his strong arms and stern demeanor; my mother with her warm embrace and kind eyes; my sister, Rianna, with her constant curiosity; and my brother, Jorn, with his constant attempts at stepping out of my shadow. My eyes began to burn. “Since Sòl. So about six months, I guess.”

Master Fentin pursed his lips. “Six months is a long time to go without seeing one’s family.”

Reevie grunted. The three of us sat there for an uncomfortable amount of time before Master Fentin finally broke the silence. “Well, I do believe my stomach is telling me it’s time for lunch. What say I have Orilla whip us up some sandwiches before we start on this mess?

“I’d say your stomach knows what it’s talking about,” Reevie piped up. “Mistress Orilla makes the best sandwiches in Aramoor. I just wish she’d tell me her secret.”

“Ah, but the mystery is half the enjoyment,” Master Fentin said with a cheeky smile.

I scanned the disarray the shop was in and wondered why trouble seemed to follow me everywhere I went. I sighed and hopped down from the stool. “Lunch sounds good to me.”

We spent the better part of the following week working in Master Fentin’s shop. I actually found the routine of sorting through the mountains of books and arranging them by title and content to be therapeutic. There was also the added benefit of using my slowly healing muscles in gentle, repetitious work.

Reevie had pledged our help in exchange for food and some supplies we needed around the granary: fresh candles, another broom, and cushions to make a second bed. We offered to do it for nothing—we owed Master Fentin our freedom—but neither he nor his wife would hear of it. I think they were looking for any excuse to help us out.

On Fifthday, Mistress Orilla took us shopping for some new clothes. It was Reevie’s idea. He figured if he dressed me nicer than his too-small hand-me-downs, I would stand a better chance of being accepted by his tribe. I wasn’t sure how wearing a new set of clothes would persuade a gang of street kids to do anything more than try to take them from me. I hoped Reevie knew what he was doing.

I used the gold piece the lady in the market had given me for saving her son. In truth, I was actually excited by the whole ordeal. It was the first time I’d ever owned clothing not made by my mother. We each got a new pair of trousers, a lightly colored linen tunic, a sleeveless leather jerkin, and a couple pair of woolen socks to go along with our new shoes. I was most thankful for the shoes. I didn’t know which was worse, walking around Aramoor with bare feet or trying to squish into an old pair of Reevie’s.

Our new clothes were simple but well-made, which was perfect for a couple of street kids not wanting to stick out in a crowd. More importantly, they were clean, comfortable, and actually fit.

I had a feeling Mistress Orilla supplemented the bill with her own coins. I couldn’t see how a single gold piece could have purchased everything we walked out of the shop with. Instead of making a fuss, I spent as much free time I as could helping them around the shop.

The days passed quickly and my body continued its slow journey back to health. I felt well enough to begin the training regime I had grown up with. The exercises were rigorous, designed to break down and rebuild muscle, creating a honed Upakan warrior.

I didn’t push hard at first. I knew my limitations, and the last thing that I wanted was to end up in bed again because of impatience. The sooner my body was back to acceptable fighting form, the safer I would feel outside our little corner of Aramoor.

The granary was the perfect place to train. It had lots of wide open space, high ceilings with hefty rafters, perfect for climbing ropes. There were empty boxes and barrels and pallets to use as hurdles for a makeshift obstacle course. I even scrounged up an old pulley to use for weights.

Above all its other worthy attributes, the granary was void of unwanted guests. We were an island to ourselves in a sea of stone and plaster. Living this close to the Warrens assured us a sense of freedom. We didn’t have to worry with constantly looking over our shoulders for patrollers, other tribes, or the occasional looter. Only the immensely brave or the immensely stupid chose to live this close to the old city.

“Have you lost your mind?” Reevie practically fell out of the open hatch when he saw me hanging from the rafters by my legs. There was a panicked look on his face. “I didn’t spend the last few weeks putting you back together so you could kill yourself in front of me!”

“Don’t worry. I do this all the time—or did, back home.” I waved it off. “It’s nothing. Just helps with blood flow.”

“Tick fever it does! Now get down here before I feed your supper to the cats since you seem to be too stupid to eat it!”

The threat of losing supper was all it took. “Alright, I’m coming down.” I repositioned my legs around the beam and began to rock myself back and forth. There was a rope in front of me, a good six feet away. I needed to get up enough momentum to swing myself over to it before I let go of the beam. It was a tricky maneuver, but I had done really well in my training today and I felt up to it.

I slowed my breathing and concentrated.

“You’re not about to . . .” Reevie didn’t finish. I figured he was too afraid he’d break my focus and cause me to fall. Knowing him, he was probably thinking up some really nasty diseases to swear at me as soon as I landed.

I kept my eyes on the rope. My body was moving swiftly now, back and forth, back and forth, swinging me a little further out each time. I didn’t look down. All that existed was me, the rope, and the beam. Nothing else mattered. I pictured the rope in my hands and held on to the image as I counted down on the forward swings. Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Release!

I let go of the beam and sailed forward. I was a leaf on the wind. My eyes never left the rope. I opened my hands as I closed the distance. Just as I had pictured, I grabbed hold of the rope and swung outward. It was a wonderful feeling. Freeing. I let the rope pull me along as we flew through the air. We hit the apex and it snapped.

My heart leaped into my throat.

I vaguely heard Reevie cry out as I continued forward, the frayed piece of rope still clutched in my hands. I dropped it and grabbed at anything within reach. My fingers wrapped around one of the other nearby ropes and I slid down, not caring a whit whether it burned my hands. I just wanted to get back on solid ground.

Before my bare feet hit the floor, Reevie had his arms around me. I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. He pulled away and punched me as hard as he could before limping back downstairs. No horrific diseases were cursed my way, no threats of a lost meal, only silence.

I would have preferred the diseases.

Reevie didn’t say anything about my training after that. I think he resigned himself to the fact that I was going to do what I was going to do, and if I ended up getting myself killed doing it, then he’d simply have to clean up the mess and look for another crazy roommate with which to share his meals.

I found some newer, stronger rope and continued to train. With no one around to see, I’d usually strip down to nothing but my underpants in order to spare my new clothes the wear and tear of a hard workout. By the time I was through each day, I was thoroughly soaked, winded, and in need of a good bathing. And Reevie would let me know it.

We found an old washbasin in one of the abandoned buildings nearby. With some brilliant ingenuity on Reevie’s part, we managed to move it into one of the smaller rooms at the back of the granary. There were times during my training that I’d catch Reevie watching me as I moved through my combat routines: punching, kicking, spinning, rolling. My body’s natural responses were coming back. I was barely getting winded now. The burning ache after a grueling session of drills felt wonderful. It told me I was making progress.

I was even able to talk Reevie into joining me during some of my simpler exercises. There was only so much he could do with his bad leg, but I was able to devise some helpful exercises that allowed him to build his endurance and strengthen his upper body.

“No, move your foot here,” I said, pointing at a spot on the floor with my bare toes. Reevie slid his foot forward to the place I indicated. “See? That will give you more balance.” I placed my hands on his shoulders and rocked him slightly. “When your feet are spread further apart it makes you less likely to fall.”

I wanted to give him some amount of ability to stand up for himself since he couldn’t exactly run from a fight, so I taught him some of the basics. In truth, it was all I really knew to offer. “Good. Now block with this arm, and punch with that fist. Like this.” I demonstrated and Reevie copied. “Yeah, that’s it.”

The more we practiced the more proficient Reevie became. At the very least, it gave him some much needed self-confidence, which was very important for someone in his shoes. The way things were shaping up for me here in Aramoor, I had a feeling we were going to need all the help we could get.

Red and her gang were still out there.

“Are you ready?” Reevie shifted his feet with eager anticipation as he waited for me to step out the front door of the granary and into the grey-fingered light of an early dawn. The ship bells rang in the change of watch. Their tones echoed through the empty streets, letting us know our time had finally arrived.

The fresh, salty tang to the air outside our warehouse was invigorating. I slid my fingers down the edge of my leather jerkin. The still-new smell of my clothing gave me a slight boost of confidence. Maybe today—unlike every other time I’d set foot on the streets of Aramoor—wouldn’t go horribly wrong.

It had been at least three weeks since I’d last left our cozy hideout on the south side of town, three weeks since I had visited Master Fentin’s shop or eaten one of Mistress Orilla’s mystery meat sandwiches. I felt guilty from my lack of attention, but I had spent every free moment working to get my body back into shape so I’d be ready for today.

I took a deep breath and exhaled with determination. “Yes.”

Reevie looked skeptical as he studied my face, but he finally nodded and shut the granary door.

“Where is your tribe located?”

“At the heart of the Maze.”

“Maze?”

“Another name for Cheapside.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’ll see.” He handed me his sack of herbs and we started up the street. “Now remember, don’t speak unless spoken to.” He glanced in my direction. “Better yet . . . don’t speak at all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m just looking out for you. You’ve only got one shot at this. Don’t waste it with an ill-timed comment. You might be some super-deadly assassin-warrior, but in my world, a pair of fast hands and swift feet is no match for a cool head and a cunning mouth.”

I almost laughed. That sounded like something my instructors would have said. Well, maybe not the bit about a ‘cunning mouth,’ but definitely the need for a cool head. We were taught to clear ourselves of emotions before a fight. “One who is swift to emotion is swift to defeat,” my father would say.

Reevie even reminded me of my father sometimes: same inflections in his voice, same serious tone; same scrutinizing glare. It left me with a good feeling, for the same reason it did when my father used to scold me, because I knew he cared. Reevie might act tough and claim he only saved me for selfish reasons, but I knew better. He was the first real friend I’d ever had.

“Alright,” Reevie said as we started into the Maze. “There are some things you need to know. First of all, the head of our tribe is Spats. And before you go asking, I’ve got no idea why he’s called Spats.

“Hurricane isn’t the largest tribe in Aramoor, but they aren’t the smallest either. They are one of the poorest.”

“So why did you choose to join them?”

Reevie thought for a moment as he limped along. “Necessity, mostly. They were the first tribe to contact me, and because of my small skill as a healer, they were happy to let me join.”

Reevie didn’t seem all that proud of his association with Hurricane. It seemed more of a relationship of convenience. This was foreign to me. Upakans were proud of their families. Winning was a way to earn better standing for your house, something my family had depended on me to do. Unfortunately, my tendency to attract trouble usually had the opposite effect.

“Hurricane has been around for nearly two decades,” Reevie said, “which is quite the accomplishment, considering the conflict between tribes, especially over picking grounds.”

“Picking grounds?”

Reevie passed me a sheepish look. “A picking ground is a . . . a . . . Blisters! It’s not really important what a picking ground is. We need to focus on getting you on Spats’s good side and keeping you there.”

“How do I do that?”

“For starters, by not asking so many questions.”

I rolled my eyes. “How am I supposed to learn anything if I can’t ask any questions?”

“By keeping your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open.”

I grumbled but didn’t argue.

“Spats surrounds himself with bootlickers. Being willing to do anything he says gets you attention—and a promotion more often than not. He likes winners, as long as they acknowledge their success results from his exceptional leadership. So keep your mouth shut and your head down. With your skills, you don’t want to be seen as a threat. Exceptional people tend to catch fatal diseases, like acute metal poisoning in the back.”

I grimaced. The more Reevie talked about this Spats, the less I liked him. I wanted to ask him again why he was a part of this group, but I didn’t push. I got the sense that he wasn’t thrilled that his survival depended on his standing with a rough group of kids. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of teaming up with them myself, but apparently, I wouldn’t last long in Aramoor if I didn’t.

The streets slowly filled the farther north we walked as the rest of the Maze began to wake.  Men kissed their wives good-bye while mothers called their children in for breakfast. I found myself longing once more to hear my own mother telling me it was time to eat.

The houses in Cheapside were crammed together like stacked shipping crates on a dock waiting to be loaded. There was hardly room enough to breathe. Families were stuffed into tiny, barely affordable spaces. Each tenement was three or four stories in height. Lines of clothing ran like spider webs between buildings. The air was rife with the stench of overpopulation. I tried holding my nose, but it didn’t help. How could anyone live here?

Reevie noticed my expression. “You get used to it.”

I found that hard to believe.

We crossed out of a residential district and into a cluster of small shops. The buildings, though much nicer than the residential area we had just left, were in desperate need of repair.

“This used to be the main shopping district for Aramoor centuries ago,” Reevie said as he stopped long enough for me to have a brief look around.

Even though decayed with age, the buildings were ornate. Instead of flat stone, the walls had definable layers. Intricate trimming around the windows and doors added a unique flare. The builders had gone to a lot of work to chisel out each block, some with elegant designs.

I could almost imagine what they must have originally looked like, but they had been left to rot as the city grew and the wealthy moved into the newer sections as they were built. Their beauty eroded with time. The decay had begun to chip away at the walls, leaving entire sections looking as though a good wind would bring them down.

It was a depressing sight. I understood all too well the effects of time. The Lost City where I had grown up had at one time been the capital of all Keldor, but after the eruption of Ash Mount and the tremors that followed, the city was swallowed, burying its once regal beauty under a mountain of rock.

“We need to prove to Spats that you’re valuable,” Reevie said, diverting my attention from the surrounding buildings. “We need to give him a reason to keep you around, something that doesn’t make you stick out.”

“I’m sure I can think of something,” I said with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”

“I can handle it.”

“I hope so. ‘Cause . . . we’re here.”

We rounded the corner of the last shop and followed a winding brick path that ended at a large ornate wall. It was at least twelve feet in height. It had strange looking creatures chiseled into the lower half of the stone and unfamiliar glyphs at the top.

“Interesting place for a street tribe,” I said, gawking at the wall’s decorations. I had never seen, or heard, of any of those animals pictured before.

“We call it the Temple.”

“Why’s that?”

Reevie scratched at his mop of light brown hair. “I guess because it used to be a temple.”

“Temple to what?” Several heads peeked over the top of the wall as we neared the front gates.

“To Egla.”

“Who’s that?”

Reevie looked at me funny. “She was one of the faerie overlords defeated during the Faerie Wars at the end of the First Age. Don’t you know anything about history?”

“That was thousands of years ago. How am I supposed to know that?”

Reevie shrugged. “Common knowledge around here. Anyway,” he continued. “I heard her subjects captured her with one of those durma collars and fed her to her own pets. Guess that’s what you get when you make yourself out to be like the Creator.”

I glanced at the wall of strange creatures and shuddered.

The faces of the lookouts began to take shape as we approached. “Who goes there?” a squeaky voice called out.

“You know who,” Reevie hollered back. “You’re looking right at me, Toots.”

“You know I’ve got to ask, Healer.”

Reevie sighed. “This is why I prefer to live on my own.” He looked back up at the top of the wall where three or four new heads had popped up to see what was going on.

Give us the password,” one of the heads said.

“Oh, for pity sake. This is embarrassing.” Reevie shook his head and recited.

“There is no chief as brave as Spats.

All others are as dumb as rats.

If any wish to enter here,

Stick out your tongue and then draw near.”

“Bet you’ll never guess who wrote that little ditty,” Reevie muttered under his breath. “Just follow my lead.” He stuck out his tongue and then took two steps toward the iron gate. I grudgingly did the same. I couldn’t believe we were standing there with our tongues sticking out at a metal gate while kids above us snickered down their approval. I guess from their perspective we did look pretty ridiculous. I would have chuckled myself if my tongue hadn’t already been preoccupied.

The metal gate creaked as the bar swung upward and released the lock. As soon as it opened, a number of boys and a couple of girls rushed out to get a look at me. I pulled my tongue back inside my mouth and straightened my back. I wanted to look as formidable as possible.

“One more thing,” Reevie said under his breath as the gates ground to a stop. “Whatever you do . . . don’t embarrass me.”

“Who’s this, Healer?” an older boy asked, looking me over. He was at least a foot taller than I and skinny as a broom handle. His arms and legs were thin, easy to break if the need arose. My training took over and I analyzed the kids around us, cataloging weak spots.

“This is Ayrion,” Reevie said to the growing crowd. “He’s new to the city, and wants to petition a place in Hurricane.”

“Not much to him,” one of the girls in front said as she stepped forward and stared at my colorless irises. “Those are some strange-looking eyes.” She took a step back. “I’m Sapphire.” It was easy to see where she got her name. She had the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

“Ayrion . . . That’s a pretty name.”

I winced. That was not how I wanted to be remembered.

Sapphire was taller than I was, but not by much. Her sandy blonde hair had been pulled back into a partial braid.

“Where’s Spats?” Reevie asked.

Sapphire glanced at the main building. “He’s meeting with some runners in his study. Doesn’t look good.” She wore a strange, almost eager grin.

Reevie grunted. “When does it ever.”

“Alright, break it up,” bawled a solid boy. “You’ve all seen the new kid, now get back to work before Spats catches you sitting around doing nothing and puts you in the hole.”

The kids scattered. The threat of the hole—whatever that was—put wings to their feet.

“Sounds like Spats will be busy for a while,” Reevie said. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Metal screeched and I whirled to see the gate swing shut and the bar clang back into place. Around the wall, scaffolding had been erected at different intervals for the lookouts.

“They’re called watchers,” Reevie said as he caught me studying the haphazard stations scattered around the Temple’s wall. Each station had a brass bell.

“Watchers?”

“They watch from the wall, and sound the alarm if they see a threat. Everyone in Hurricane has a job. For some, it’s based on their skills, or their size.” I caught Reevie rubbing his bad leg. “But typically, it’s wherever they’re most needed at that time. There’s a hierarchy.

“At the top, there’s the chief. Nothing gets done without running it by him first. On our hauls, he gets the first, and largest, share and splits it among the rest, another reason not to get on his bad side.”

Reevie led us along a stone path that ran the perimeter of the Temple. Smaller walkways crisscrossed the yard in front of the Temple buildings. The yard had been a garden at one time, complete with small pools and flowing streams. There was nothing now but dried up holes and empty ditches that followed the walkways.

Statues, fountains, half-fallen arches, and benches dotted the landscape, speaking to the beauty this place had once held. The only surviving plants were a couple of stubborn old white oaks. Their limbs, thick with leaves, stretched out over the walkways and provided shade to those mingling beneath. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine what the courtyard had looked like.

Whoever Egla was, she had built a small oasis here in the middle of this hardened section of Aramoor. Of course, for all I knew, before she became animal fodder, this might have been the aristocracy’s side of town. The ornate buildings in the old shopping community supported my theory.

“Those are part of the Guard,” Reevie said, pointing to a small group of older boys lounging beside one of the buildings. Each wore a black vest, like Sapphire’s. Everyone seemed to go out of their way to avoid them, even though the Guard ignored any who passed. “They’re the tribe’s best fighters. They’re Spats’s personal sentries. You can’t see him without first going through them.”

I studied the Guards’ movements, the way their hands never strayed too far from the weapons they carried, the way their eyes were constantly watching, darting about at any small noise or movement. These boys—though few of them could still be considered boys anymore with their size and the sporadic patches of growth on their faces—I doubted were anything on the level of what I had been raised with, but I wasn’t going to dismiss them as a possible threat. Their matching black vests had me wondering if a certain red vest I had recently come in contact with was worn for more than just its aesthetics.

“Next are the beaters. They are our main fighting force when there are skirmishes between tribes, when our picking grounds get invaded, or when chiefs try elevating their tribe by fighting for additional territory.

“Beaters aren’t the brightest lot, but they’re big and follow orders. It’s a pretty easy job, mostly sitting around all day waiting for some action. They don’t have to scrounge for food or supplies.

“They’re like the Elondrian lancers,” Reevie said with a smirk, “but without all the protective armor, or shields . . . or weapons for that matter. Come to think of it, I guess they aren’t like the lancers at all—”

“More like a group of kids running around with clubs, slingshots, and pig stickers,” I said, earning me a raised brow and eventually a shrug and nod from Reevie.

We stopped at one of the empty pools where a fountain had been. The inside of the dry hole was lined with a collage of once brightly painted stones and at its center sat a statue of a beautiful woman with long hair down to her feet, playing what looked like a large harp. I nearly choked when I walked around to the front and realized she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

Reevie laughed at my reaction to the naked harp-playing faerie. “That’s Egla for you. There’s hardly a mural or statue of her that doesn’t depict her in all her glory.”

I peeked once more when Reevie wasn’t looking. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life and was embarrassed to admit it. I couldn’t understand why Egla wasn’t embarrassed at having everyone see her like that. I certainly would have been.

“Next are the pickers. They are the breadwinners of our little society. Keep the wheels turning.”

“What do you mean by pickers? Do they have something to do with the picking grounds you mentioned earlier?”

Reevie nibbled on a nail. “Remember Lord Gerrik?” I nodded. “Aramoor doesn’t like street rats. Every now and then, you’ll come across someone like Master Fentin and Mistress Orilla who are willing to help us out, but as a rule, we are shunned. It’s next to impossible to find work that doesn’t end with us being shipped off to one of the mining colonies never to be heard from again. And since we have to eat, we acquire food any way we can, which generally means . . .”

“You steal it.”

Reevie hung his head. “We call it picking. We see something we need and we pick it up, usually followed by a lot of running and hiding as you saw with those patrollers who chased us a few weeks back.”

I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was knowing that everything I had been nourishing myself with over the last few weeks had only come because it had been taken from someone else. Upakans didn’t steal. It was beneath us, and the Shal’Noran forbade it. I guess if I really thought about it, this was an odd sense of morality, considering what we did for a living.

But now I had to question the code I had been raised to live by. Could I still keep the Shal’Noran if I had no way to earn food? I shoved the questions aside for another time.

“So basically we steal everything we need?”

“Well, not everything. On occasion, we do actually find legitimate employment by hiring out our fixers. However, because of where we’re located, most people don’t have a lot of extra coin for fixing things. Needless to say, we don’t see much in the way of honest work.

“Fixers are the kids who have had some professional experience, like apprenticing in a smithy, or with a carpenter or tailor, some type of skill that the tribe can use to their benefit. I guess I’d fall under that category. The medical training I received under my father was my entry into the tribe. No one else has the extensive knowledge that I do when it comes to applying herbs and treating illnesses.”

We climbed the steps leading up to one the Temple’s side buildings. “I’m a high commodity around here, which is why I have some leeway when it comes to the rules. Real healers are almost impossible to find. Anyone can claim to be one, but few have the skill.”

We stepped inside the kitchen area, which looked out over a room full of tables and benches. “That’s Cook,” Reevie said, gesturing to a heavyset kid wearing a dirty apron and stirring something in a very large pot. The coals underneath glowed and the steam wafting over the rim filled the room with the scent of pepper and garlic. I smiled at the boy when he looked up from his work to wipe the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

“Finally, you have the cleaners.” Reevie pointed to the back of the room where a couple of smaller kids were busy swishing a pair of brooms around the tables. “They are a greatly undervalued bunch, quiet but busy. Their job is to—”

“Wait. Let me guess. Keep the place clean.”

“Good, you’re listening.”

We stepped back out into the sunlight and started down the steps. Before we had reached the bottom, a squirt of a boy dashed over. “Spats said that he can see you now, Healer. Be quick. There’s trouble with Avalanche. Talk is Cutter’s making threats again.”

Reevie grunted and dismissed the boy, and the two of us walked over to the main building. “I don’t know if trouble with Avalanche will be good or bad for you. He could be in a foul mood and deny you entrance out of spite, or he might see this as a way to grow the ranks.” Reevie shrugged. “You never know with Spats.”

I already wasn’t thrilled with the situation and Reevie’s words didn’t help. Once inside the main building, we walked down a couple of rounded passageways, each with its own built-in skylight that bathed the corridors with warm afternoon sunlight. The inside of the Temple was much like the gardens outside: once beautiful, but now rough with age.

We stopped outside the doors to Spats’ office. Each had been masterfully carved with a breathtaking view of the former gardens.

My fists tightened at the sight of the two boys standing on either side of the doors. Their black vests labeled them as members of the Guard, though their stature was proof enough. They looked me over, assessing my potential threat. Their gaze was painfully brief. Still, they kept a close eye on me. One of them actually growled, which made me wonder what was waiting for me on the other side of those doors.

“Come in!”

I looked at Reevie. His face did little to hide the dread he felt. I swallowed and waited for him to open the doors, but his hand seemed to have gotten stuck somewhere between his pocket and the handle.

The guards chuckled.

“Reevie,” I said softly, snapping him out of it. He shook his head, took a small step forward, and turned the knob. The door swung open and we stepped inside.

The room surprised me. From the way Reevie had described Hurricane’s leader, I’d half expected to see walls lined with swords and staves, grizzly paintings of hard-won battles, and the heads of Spats’ enemies mounted on spears.  Instead, I found an exquisitely organized chamber with shelves, a desk, and chairs, all in the same rich wood as the doors we had just walked through.

Rays of sunlight fell through stunningly-crafted amber panes, giving the room an ethereal feel. Spats sat at his desk, busy poring over some loose papers. Spats was even further from what I had imagined. By the size of his guards and the way Reevie shook at the thought of being in his presence, I was half expecting a monstrous brute, or some enormous misshapen creature with three arms and five legs. Instead, I found a thin, angular kid with bulging eyes and a mass of explosive red hair. He wasn’t much taller than me. He had to sit on a stack of books just to see over his desk, which had been built for a grown man. Hurricane’s chief spared us a brief glance before returning to his papers. His face reminded me of a weasel: high cheekbones, a nose that came to a point, and slightly offset eyes.

“Ah, Healer. Perfect timing. Come in.” He even sounded like a weasel. His high-pitched voice was rather nasal, as though he’d made it halfway through puberty and instead of dropping, his voice had decided to stay where it was.

I bit my tongue to keep from snickering. I had a feeling the kid in front of me didn’t climb to chieftain thanks to a cheerful disposition.

The guards behind us stepped into the room and shut the doors. I could feel their eyes on the back of my head.

“Chief.” Reevie bowed. He glanced my way and cleared his throat. I got the hint and bowed as well. Reevie waited for Spats to acknowledge him with a slight wave before straightening. “This is Ayrion. He’s new to the city, and I—”

“What’s wrong with his eyes?”

“What?” Reevie turned his head. “His eyes?”

Spats hopped down from his seat and stepped around his desk. He snatched my chin and twisted my head back and forth, studying one eye and then the other. It took everything I had not to punch him in the face.

“Why do his eyes look like that?”

I wanted to ask him why his head was so small and his voice sounded like a girl who’d just had her backside pinched, but thought better of it.

“Is he diseased?” Spats let go of my chin and wiped his hands down the front of his trousers as if in touching me would suddenly change his eye color as well.

“He’s not diseased,” Reevie said. “He’s Upakan.”

Spats leaned back against his desk. “Upakan you say? Hmm.” He scanned me from head to toe. “So, are the stories true? Can you kill me with a single look?” There was a smile on Spats’ face, but his eyes held a spark of wary caution. “Well, do you speak, boy?”

“He’s a bit shy, Chief,” Reevie said, clearly not happy with the direction the conversation was heading. “He’s a healer. I think he’ll make a good asset to our tribe. I can definitely use all the help I can—”

“Quiet.”

Reevie shut his mouth, his hands were shaking.

“Is that true? Are you a healer?”

I nodded. It wasn’t exactly a lie, since I had been trained in the appropriate herbs and tonics used to treat wounds and basic illnesses, things a warrior should know. If I were to be accepted as a healer, that should place me in high standing within the tribe, like Reevie. Hopefully, it would allow me to move about as freely as he did.

“Are you mute, boy?” Spats looked at me with a growing annoyance before turning to Reevie. “Can he speak?”

“Yes, sir,” I finally said, keeping my eyes in what Spats would assume was proper deference. I needed Spats to believe that I was just as fearful of him as Reevie, that they would have no reason to keep an eye on me.

Upaka were trained to fit in, to do whatever it took to meet the goal, which was usually getting close to our next target. To do this we had to learn to let go of our identity and become someone else. It was a talent I hadn’t quite mastered, especially if it required me to cower to bullies.

“So, not mute after all.” Spats studied me for a moment and then walked back around to the other side of his desk and perched on his stack of books. “Normally, we test all applicants to Hurricane. It lets us know where to put them in the tribe–or if we want them at all. I have strict guidelines here,” he said snatching his quill and pointing it at me. “However, as it happens, you’ve come at an opportune time. We just received word that one of our warehouses was raided last night by a rival tribe.” There was an edge to his voice that matched the embers building in his eyes. “I will not allow this to go unanswered. There will be blood in the streets by tonight, or my name isn’t Spats. And where there is blood we will need healers.” He pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair, studying me again. “If our healer vouches for you, that’s good enough for me, provided you can answer one question.”

I tensed, hoping Spats wouldn’t ask me something beyond the basics of my field training.

“If in this battle, I and the Healer were wounded, which would you tend to first?”

I knew who I would tend to, but I also knew that wasn’t the answer Spats wanted. So I lied.

“You, of course, great chief.” I bowed, even more deeply this time.

Spats folded his hands and smiled. “Excellent. You’re in.”

We left Spats’ office and Reevie took me on a quick tour of the rest of the Temple. It consisted of beautifully framed rooms and hallways trimmed with richly colored wood that had been shaped in a rather fluid-like fashion. There was a soft beauty to the design that reminded me of the puzzle pieces I used to work on with my sister, each part blended perfectly together to make the whole. Outside, there were covered walkways connecting one building to the next, each open to the once lush gardens that had surrounded the entire complex.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Reevie motioned for me to follow as he carefully stepped off the walkway and headed across the yard to a small shed near the back wall. The building was nothing more than a basic square frame and roof. The sides had been enclosed with a single layer of meshed wire, allowing me to see straight through. There were rows of shelves on either side, each holding what appeared to be a number of birds. A couple of holes had been cut into the mesh with a small landing for the birds to walk in and out of. “Our pigeons,” Reevie said with a proud grin. “What do you think?”

I looked at Reevie, then at the birds, then back to Reevie. “I think there’s not much meat on them.”

Reevie looked disgusted. “They’re not for eating, you nitwit. They’re for sending messages.”

“Huh?”

“They’re messenger pigeons. We strap a small rolled up piece of parchment to their feet and they carry it between one place and another. It’s how Spats reaches me at the granary.”

“How do they know where to go?”

Reevie shrugged. “I don’t know. They always seem to know where home is.”

“Is this considered their home?”

“For some of them, yes.”

“Then how do they know how to fly to the granary?”

Reevie smiled. “Good question. We learned that if we kept their food separate from their home, they would fly back and forth each day. I have another cage on the roof of the granary. That’s where I keep the food for a couple of them.”

“That’s pretty ingenious.” I was surprised he hadn’t shown me it before.

We left the birds to their cooing and headed back inside, ending the tour in a small, brightly lit room, not that far down from Spats’ office. Reevie had claimed the space for his healing. A brass chandelier hung from the ceiling, its candles providing a warm addition to the light streaming through the octagonal windows at the back. Shelves built into the walls held marked jars of herbs and medicines. There were oddly shaped and colored decanters holding a variety of tonics and tinctures. Some of the labels I recognized but there were many I wasn’t familiar with. There were several cots for patients against the side wall.

Reevie grabbed a couple of knapsacks and handed me one of the them. “Here, fill that with as many bandages as you can. Whenever Spats gets that look in his eyes, I can just about count on burning through at least half my supply.”

He pointed to a large chest near the back of the room. I opened it to find layers of bleached wrapping already cut into strips. Reevie really knew how to be prepared. The way things seemed to work around here, you’d need to be in order to survive.

“When you’re done with that, start loading the jars from those shelves over there.” He pointed at one of the two cabinets on the other side of the room. We spent the rest of the morning packing supplies for whatever retaliation Spats had in mind. At the sound of my stomach growling for the third time, Reevie had us stop for lunch. We left the supplies sitting near the door and headed for the dining hall.

The entire Temple was alive with excitement. Mixed emotions could be seen on the faces of the kids we passed. Those in black vests looked eager, others–not so much. A few looked determined; most looked worried, and then there were those–like me–who just looked confused. What weapons they carried consisted mostly of wooden clubs. Some had small pocket knives, perfect for chores but woefully inadequate for armed combat. I spotted a few daggers haphazardly tucked into belts and boots. Each of the Guard wore a shortsword and by the way they carried themselves they knew how to use them. Unfortunately, the way the rest of the tribe’s soldiers—beaters Reevie called them—appeared to be fumbling over each other just trying to get from one end of the hall to the other, they looked like they’d be more of a danger to themselves than to anyone else.

We reached the dining hall and Reevie found us an empty spot at one of the back tables. We sat down to whatever Cook had been working on this morning. The broth was hot, but the single piece of meat I found in mine was chewy at best. Regardless of the quality, I found it remarkable that they were able to scrounge up enough food to keep everyone fed.

The tension was building. Everyone was on edge. The nervous glances passed between tables, the stiff way the kids slurped their lunch, it was all too familiar and I found my thoughts drifting to home.

I remembered how I used to be before a competition: the shake in my hands, the rush of adrenaline, pondering all the ways things could go wrong. I had to learn to block everything out in order to focus on what was important.

“. . . has been coming for some time.”

I lowered my spoon and looked across the table where Reevie had already finished his soup and was apparently carrying on a one-sided conversation with me. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

He sighed and pushed his bowl away. “I see the madness has spread to you too. I said that Avalanche has been sending their spies into our territories for months, trying to determine where our food stores are hidden. Obviously, they must have found one last night.

“Spats has been threatening to retaliate for some time, but up until now he hasn’t had a strong enough reason to justify an all-out attack against another tribe, which is exactly what the Guild will demand once they find out.”

“The Guild. That’s where the heads of all the tribes meet, correct?”

“Yes. They set the rules and the punishment for breaking them.”

“Then why doesn’t Spats just tell them what Avalanche is doing?”

“Duh,” Reevie said with a tone that let me know I must be asking another stupid question. “It would be our word against theirs. Spats isn’t stupid. Trust me. He’s already working on a way to get Avalanche back.”

It was hard for me to reconcile Reevie’s confidence with that redheaded weasel of a kid I’d met earlier. He didn’t look like a mastermind of mayhem.

I drained what was left of the heavily peppered broth and the two of us made our way back to the Healer’s quarters. I closed the door. “Will we be expected to fight? How will we stay out of the battle so we can tend to the wounded?”

Reevie made a face, indicating he thought I was being stupid. “Do I look like I could do any sort of fighting?”

I shook my head.

“Spats likes to keep me with him. Don’t worry. The Guard will protect us.”

“The Guard?  If the Guard and the chief stay out of the fight, then who’s leading it.”

“Leading it? Why do you need someone leading it? Spats tells the beaters where to attack, and they attack. Just stay with me and we’ll be fine. Now where did I put that liniment?” With that, he turned and began rummaging through one of the large satchels.

Reevie’s words flew in the face of everything I’d been taught about strategic warfare, but then again, this wasn’t exactly what I would call a true war. Maybe things were different here on the streets. This tribe had been around for some time, as Reevie had pointed out, so maybe they knew what they were doing. As long as I could make sure that Reevie was safe, the rest didn’t matter.

“Where’s the armory?” I was growing bored of watching Reevie double check our supplies and needed something to do.

“Why do you need to know? I just told you healers aren’t expected to fight.”

“When it comes to fighting, what’s expected isn’t always what comes to pass. What would happen if the Avalanche beaters managed to break through the ranks? Do healers have immunity?”

Reevie stopped his packing. There was a concerned look on his face. “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. Grab me something too.”

Other than a small knife I had found lying around our quarters at the granary, which I had sewn into my jerkin, I was nakedly unprepared. Red and her tribe had taken my weapons along with everything else. Then it dawned on me and my head shot up.

“Who’s Avalanche’s chief?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I was excited at the prospect of possibly getting my father’s ring back and dish out some retribution of my own. There was no way I was going to sit out on a fight against Red.

“Cutter. Avalanche has been a rival of ours since before I came here. I think it’s because our two tribes share the same border. They have the region northeast of us. They aren’t as big as we are, but they’ve grown desperate of late. Ever since the patrollers added another station to Cheapside, their pickings have been difficult to come by.”

I sighed and started for the door. “Which way to the armory?”

“It’s in the next building over.” He turned around and pointed. “Make a left out the door. Then, at the end of the corridor make a right, and then another left, and that will take you outside to the connecting walk on the back. Once you reach the next building, go inside and take the hallway on the right. The armory will be the second . . . no, third room on the left.”

I nodded as though what he had said made perfect sense. I left Reevie to his work and shut the door on my way out. I figured I’d just follow everyone else. If I got lost, someone would point me in the right direction.

It didn’t take long to wind my way through the open passageways and out to the covered walkway between buildings. Crossing the walkway, I stepped inside the next structure. There was a group of kids coming in behind me so I moved to the side and they rushed past. I followed them down the hall, hoping they were heading to the armory as well.

Sure enough, they entered the third room on the left. Before I made it to the entrance, I could hear complaints wafting from the open door.

“Ah, man, all the good ones have been taken . . .”

“I told you we should have come here first . . .”

“. . . I was hungry.”

They passed me on the way out, shoulders slumped. I guessed they must have pilfered what was left of the weapon’s cache, which wasn’t much, since they only carried a couple of small clubs no larger than Cook’s ladle, a leather slingshot, and a wooden mallet.

I stepped inside. The room was in shambles. I had to step over some of the smaller weapon’s racks that had been tossed to the ground after their contents were confiscated. The pegs dotting the walls were bare, and one of the racks at the back had been torn apart. It seemed someone thought a nice stick of wood was better than nothing. It was a depressing sight. I should have come sooner.

“Hello, Grey Eyes.” The voice came from behind and I jumped.

I turned to find Sapphire standing there with a cheeky grin on her face. At least, I thought it was a grin. Along with her black vest and short sword, she had rubbed some kind of dark paint across her face. She looked scary, which I guess was the point. I was surprised at how close she had gotten without me knowing.

“Guess I should have gotten here earlier,” I said as I took another look around the empty room.

“Don’t you worry, Grey Eyes. I’ll watch out for you.” She slowly circled my position, studying my hands, the position of my feet, the balance of my stance. I felt like a new trinket in a shop window she was deciding whether to buy.

“I take it you’re one of the Guard,” I said, trying to break the awkwardness of her stare. “I noticed your vest, but I haven’t seen any other . . . uh–”

“Girls?” she offered with a wink. “I’m the only girl in the Guard. Those blockheads would be lost without me. They’re pretty good in a brawl, but when it comes to finesse, I’m in a whole different league.”

Somehow, I believed her. She reminded me of some of the Upakan girls back home, with a bit less boasting.

“So where did you learn to fight?”

“My father’s a sergeant in the lancer corps. Taught me everything he knows.”

“You have a father? Why are you living here and not with him?”

She turned her head and stared at one of the empty racks on the wall to my left. There was a strange look on her face that warned me not to push. When she didn’t answer I decided to try something else. “Where’s your mother?” As soon as I asked, I wished I hadn’t.

“Dead.” There was no hesitation in her voice at all.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she hissed. “She was weak.”

My mouth hung open slightly. I was too stunned to move.

“My father wanted a boy, and when he didn’t get one he figured he’d do his best to turn me into one. He beat me if I couldn’t keep up with the other boys. He beat me if I cried. He beat me if I didn’t counter his blocks quickly enough, and again if I did. He used to shave my head and wrap my chest in order to hide who I was.” The barely controlled rage on her face had me glancing around the room for the closest thing I could get my hands on in case she decided to attack. “Now, I grow it as long as I want.” She tugged on her blonde braid to emphasize the point.

I didn’t say anything. I was as still as Egla’s statue.

“But as bad as he was, my mother was worse.” She turned and looked at me, her bright azure eyes a stark contrast against the dark markings on her face. “You want to know why?”

I didn’t think I did, but I was too afraid to say no, so I offered a quick nod.

“Because she did nothing. She was my mother. She was supposed to protect me. Instead, she left us in the middle of the night and never came back.” Sapphire sneered and turned her attention back to the wall. “Once my skills grew to the point that my father was no longer able to beat me, I ran away. I was afraid he would try to kill me to cover his embarrassment at having a daughter who was better than he was.”

I could relate, not about my father beating me–I got plenty of that from Instructor Dorrin–but about not having a family around. “I ran away from home as well,” I said, hoping to find some common ground. “Although, truth be told, I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

“Well, I say hang all parents. They aren’t much good for anything anyway. The only person you can depend on in life is yourself.”

I thought it was sad philosophy to live by, though I could see the value in it. “Sounds like something my father would have said . . . the depending on yourself bit, that is.” I leaned against the doorframe. “I have to admit, after spending the last six months traveling by myself from one side of Aldor to the other, it’s a lonely road.”

She glanced my way. “Perhaps. But it’s a much safer one.”

“Well, I prefer to take the risk.” Reevie’s face popped into mind and I smiled. Finding a friend like that had proven to be one of the best gifts I’d ever been given.

Sapphire crossed her arms with a humph. “I hear you’re going to be joining us on our little adventure this evening. I guess you can’t have too many healers around, especially ones that can keep up. Don’t get me wrong. Reevie’s a sweetheart and all, but his condition . . .” She shrugged. “It makes him a liability.”

My fists clinched. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to goad me because of my previous comment or if she really meant it. “Reevie’s worth more than a hundred of you. What he has up here,” I said, pointing to my head, “is far more valuable than anything else. Anyone can swing a sword or a club and call themselves a Guard, but no one here can do what he can.” It started to realize I was starting to feel like the protective older brother where Reevie was concerned.

Sapphire studied my face for a moment without saying anything. Then she smiled. “You care for the cripple. That’s good. That means you’ll be willing to protect him.” She turned and left the room, leaving me to scratch my head. She stopped in the hall and cast a glance back over her shoulder. “I’m watching you, Grey Eyes. And I think there’s more to you than you let on.” She smiled with another wink, and then disappeared down the hall.

I had a feeling she was going to be trouble. I just wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Patience was not a virtue I had very much use for. After my futile trip to the armory, there wasn’t much left but to sit around and wait for something to happen. The battle couldn’t come soon enough. There was a deathly calm that lay like a thick fog across the Temple as the tribe went about their tasks in silence. Even Reevie, who was normally bursting at the seams to show me some new herb he had acquired or disgusting sickness he’d come across, was unusually quiet.

The sky had begun to color, signaling the end of another day. I wished I was on my way back to the granary for a nice supper, but instead, here I was getting ready for war. I scrunched my face. I had to be one of the unluckiest kids alive.

Supper had consisted of cold leftovers from lunch, along with a small slice of dark rye for dipping. No one seemed all that bothered. They were all too busy waiting for Spats to call a gathering.

When the word finally came, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted. It broke through the Temple like a whirlwind. The kids crowded around the front gate waiting for their orders. On their arms, they wore simple strips of blue cloth, to make it easier to tell which kids to bash once the fighting started. Reevie knotted one on my arm just above the armpit

Anxious chatter spread through the ranks as they waited to hear how their fearless leader was going to deliver their much desired retribution. The Guard, in circle formation, pushed their way to the front, knocking aside anyone stupid enough to get in their way. At the center of the small procession was Spats. His weasel-eyes were fixed straight ahead.

Even I was feeling a certain level of excitement at the anticipation of a battle. It was a sensation I was well acquainted with. I was curious to hear what Spats had in mind, what tactics he would use to punish the offending tribe. Keeping Reevie close, I pushed my way to the front so we could hear the orders. Reevie had one of the satchels we had prepared earlier that morning, and I carried the other two. Each one was bursting with the supplies we anticipated would be needed to treat the wounded.

“Hurricane,” Spats called out above the crowd as he raised his hands to gather their attention, as if there was a single member of the tribe that wasn’t already hanging on his every word. “The time has come!” Shouts went up from all around the gatehouse as the kids raised their makeshift bludgeons, staves, and spears into the air and cheered. I couldn’t really figure out what they were cheering about. All he had said was, ‘The time had come.’ I could have told them that myself.

Sapphire, with her painted face, was standing off to the right side of the Guard. She was looking right at me. At least, from where we were standing I thought she was. It was hard to tell in the fading light. The torches on the perimeter wall were being lit, and casting elongated shadows on the faces of those gathered around.

“I have a plan,” Spats said with a raised voice. He stood on a stool between the two large boys that had been guarding his door earlier that day. It was the only way he could be seen and heard by everyone.

“He has a plan,” I repeated to Reevie with a hint of mockery. “Well, I’m glad someone does.”

“Shhh, I’m trying to listen.”

“Do you want me to stick you on my shoulders so you can see him too?” He answered me with a swift elbow to the ribs.

“Tonight, we are going to teach Avalanche what happens to anyone who steals from us! By the time we’re through with them they’ll wish they’d never set foot in our territory! After tonight, they never will again!” The crowd roared. Spats started hopping up and down on his stool, building them into mass frenzy. “We’re going to cut their feet!”

Everything went silent.

Confused looks passed through the ranks. Finally, someone in the back hollered, “Cut their feet!” One by one, others joined in until the entire assembly was shouting, “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!” They jumped up and down, pumping weapons and fists into the air. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!”

I felt like I was watching the beginning of a mass hysteria, a deadly outbreak of complete insanity. Reevie nearly punched me in the nose with his own fist as he tried joining in. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!”

“Cut their feet? Cut whose feet?” And with what, I wondered. This is madness. There were maybe eight good blades in the bunch. What were they going to cut people’s feet with? What was wrong with these kids? I understood the concept of rousing your fighters before a battle, but this was ridiculous. So far I hadn’t heard a single shred of evidence that spoke to an actual plan. What was the goal? How were they going to accomplish it? I figured Spats was saving the details until the end, so I listened.

Spats raised his hands for silence. Once the kids finished their chanting, Spats spoke, fervor building. “They took something from us.” The kids around me nodded in agreement. “So we are going to take something from them.” Shouts rose from the crowd. “Tonight, we will let them know that if they hit us, we will hit them back. And we won’t stop hitting, until they are no longer able to steal from us again!”

The beaters went wild, chanting all over again. “Hit them back! Hit them back!” I started to roll my eyes, but then remembered that was exactly what I wanted to do to Red. Hit her back.

The firelight from the torches made the chief’s red hair glow. Spats sneered and his face looked positively evil. I grabbed Reevie as he took a small step back. “Tonight, we are going to raid their warehouses. Then we will burn them to the ground!” Spats waited, with hands in the air, for the triumphant cheers and grand praise, but this time there was hesitation.

“Burn it?” Reevie’s expression changed. “That’s not a smart thing to do,” he said under his breath. “We’re in the middle of a drought. You set a fire and it could take out a quarter of the tenements in Cheapside.”

“What if the fire spreads?” someone called out, further back in the crowd.

Spats looked shocked that his great plan was being questioned. “Then it will spread on them! And we will finally be rid of our enemies once and for all! Their territories will become ours! And to make sure they cannot run away like the cowards we know they are, we will cut their feet!” He brandished his short sword and sliced at the air like a drunken sailor. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!”

Slowly the crowd began to join in. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet.” Pretty soon the madness had once again spread through the entire ranks, until all the kids were shouting, and jumping, and striking out with their sticks and staves as if fighting an invisible army. “Cut their feet! Cut their feet!”

Apart from ducking and weaving to keep from getting my own head bludgeoned, I just stood there, wondering how any rational thinking person could be so stupid as to blindly follow someone into battle, believing they were going to be victorious just because their leader said they would be, when their leader had no real plan to make it happen. From the way Reevie had spoken of Spats, I had believed Hurricane’s chief to be, well . . . smarter. But this utterly ridiculous plan to ‘cut their feet and burn them to the ground’ was enough to demonstrate how dangerous this kid really was—to his own tribe.

The chanting continued.

If it hadn’t been for Reevie, I would have slipped out and left these idiots to their lunacy. I glanced at the little healer beside me. He wasn’t near as caught up in the chaos as he had been earlier.

“Am I the only one who thinks this plan is going to get us all killed?”

Reevie met my eyes with an inquisitive gaze. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, for starters, I’m talking about the fact that there is no plan.”

“Yes there is. You heard Spats. We’re going to cut their feet and burn them out.”

“Reevie, that’s not a plan, that’s the outcome, which, quite frankly, looks about as feasible as catching a fart in the wind.” I was starting to get the feeling that Reevie, out of his own desperate need to belong, was more than willing to blindly follow the rest of his tribe. I was surprised, considering he had always struck me as having a good head on his shoulders. Then again, I wasn’t a cripple living on my own for the last few years. I guess I couldn’t blame him for wanting to fit in.

“Never mind,” I said. I could see that no matter what I said, it wasn’t going to make a difference at this point. Most of these kids had been trained not to think for themselves. Those that did probably followed along out of fear of being cast out from the tribe.

For once, I was thankful that Reevie and I were going to be kept out of the battle. That was a strange feeling for me, considering I typically ran toward a fight and not away. I could only hope that Avalanche’s plan was just as absurd as Spats’s.

The journey through the Maze and into Avalanche territory took longer than I would have thought. I guess marching a troop of poorly armed and poorly trained street kids across the city in the dead of night was bound to take some time, especially while attempting to remain unseen. For the most part the city was eerily quiet. We passed some stragglers on their way home from the evening shift, a few who had clearly stopped off at one of the local taverns by the diagonal way they stumbled to get off the road when they saw us coming.

The evening air was sticky as usual, causing me to sweat straight through my new shirt. The occasional street lamp on either side of the cobble walkways helped light the way through the enormous maze of small roads, side streets, and back alleys. The sounds of boots, slippers, and bare feet filled the stone and plaster corridors as our small army marched its way toward its destination.

“How much further?” I asked Reevie, who was struggling to keep up as he dragged his gimp leg along. He kept one arm around my shoulder and I supported him with an arm around the back.

“We passed into Cutter’s territory some time back. We should be getting close to the eastern wall. Their hideout is a group of old warehouses just south of the metal works. It looks like we’ll be approaching from one of the streets on the southwest side.”

“What’s on those streets?”

“Housing, I think.”

We turned the corner onto Barrel Street, and sure enough I could see the white stone of Aramoor’s wall in the distance and the warehouses in front of it. Reevie was correct. It was a direct line of sight to their tribe’s lair.

Unlike the Temple, there wasn’t an outer wall for protection, which I found odd. The three and four story housing to either side of the narrow street gave me the impression of walking through a mountain pass. The wind whipping through the constricted passageway whistled, rattling shutters and swishing loose clothing still hanging on the lines.

The hair on the back of my neck stiffened. Something was wrong. “Why are there no lights on this street?” I could see the warehouses ahead were well lit, but there wasn’t so much as a single torch between them and us. The entirety of Barrel Street lay in darkness.

Reevie turned to look at the street behind us and the lamps on both sides cast their light across the fronts of the buildings. “Not sure. Maybe they just forgot to light them, or haven’t gotten around to it yet.” I couldn’t tell if he was asking a question or making a statement.

“We need to pull back.”

“What’s going on up there?” Spats called out behind us, flanked by the Guard.

I stopped and turned around. “This doesn’t feel right.” Up ahead, the kids began to slow when they saw their chief had stopped.

“We’re walking down a blind alley,” I said. “Do you see any guards, any lookouts? I don’t.”

Spats took a moment to look around. “That’s because Cutter’s a moron. They’re probably all asleep. The last thing they expect is for us to attack their main compound in the middle of the night like this.” His face grew dark. “Now shut up and stick to your healing duties and leave the fighting to those of us who know what we’re doing!” With that, Spats raised his blade in the air and motioned the beaters to keep moving. “If you can’t keep up, then move out of the way,” Spats hissed as the Guard pushed Reevie and me out of the way.

The look on Sapphire’s face as she passed let me know I wasn’t the only one worrying. She clearly didn’t like the situation any more than I did. I felt sorry for her. As one of the Guard, she had to go where Spats led.

“Come on,” Reevie said, trying to push us forward. “We need to catch up.”

“No, that’s about the last thing we need to do.”

“What are you talking about? We need to move. They’re going to need our help.”

“That’s for flaming certain.”

On both sides of the street, the windows in the second and third floors hung open. In weather as warm as this that was pretty typical, but as I studied the shadows from each I could see movement. This was about to go horribly wrong. I needed to warn them. At that point, I didn’t give a flip what Spats thought, and I raised my hands to my mouth and shouted.

“Look out! It’s a trap!”

No sooner had the words escaped my lips when doors on both sides of the street burst open and armed beaters came pouring out. They wore white bands on their arms. The wave of fighters crashed against either side of our tribe like a human manifestation of their namesake—Avalanche.

It was an ambush, and our tribe had been caught completely unaware. Whoever Cutter was, it was clear he had anticipated Spats’ retaliation, which I guess wasn’t saying much since a blind half-wit could have done the same.

“Bloody stool!” Reevie shouted as I yanked him sideways off the street.

I pulled him into the shadow of a nearby alcove and stuffed him behind a stack of crates. “Don’t move! I don’t care if Spats is being clubbed to death and eaten alive in front of you; you better not leave this spot.” Reevie nodded without saying a word.

The quarter moon was casting little in the way of light on the battle ahead, but it was enough for my Upakan eyes to see. I pulled the knife from my jerkin and rushed down the street. The desperate cries of the wounded and dying fueled my determination. All the training in the world couldn’t have prepared me for what I saw.

Chunks of rock and wood rained down from the windows above. I could hear bones snapping as the Hurricane beaters frantically tried protecting their heads. Kids were lying dead and bleeding in the streets, many knocked unconscious from the debris.

At the tail end of the procession, the Guard fought to hold the Avalanche fighters back from Spats. Sapphire was a cat. She danced from side to side, her braid whipping back and forth, never in the same place for long as she fought the growing numbers. Spats’ high-pitched voice was shrilling out orders from the center of their formation. “Kill them! Stab them! Cut their feet!” If I had been close enough I would’ve been tempted to cut his feet.

It was clear that Cutter had been hoping to draw Hurricane further in before engaging, so his fighters could close behind us and cut off our retreat. My warning had prevented that. Now those same fighters were taking the Guard head on. Those guarding Spats were ferocious, throwing back the Avalanche beaters as they fought to get their hands on Hurricane’s chief.

“Get me out of here!” Spats screamed.

It didn’t take a genius to see they were about to be overrun.

Sapphire was swift and agile, cutting down one assailant after another with her short sword. Her father’s training was the only thing keeping her and the others alive.

For my part, I had no concern for Spats’ safety. Anyone who blatantly leads their fighters into battle without the first care for their safety doesn’t deserve to live, but I didn’t want Sapphire to die because of Spats idiocy, and I knew she wasn’t going to leave her chief behind.

The Guard was now completely surrounded. I scanned the street. It only took a moment to find what I was looking for. Slipping my knife back in my jerkin, I grabbed a loose piece of cobble and hurled it at the closest kid with a white armband.

The rock hit the boy in the back of the head. By the time his unconscious body struck the ground, I had kicked the legs out from under the boy on his left and broken the arm of the one on his right. His sword fell from his limp fingers. I snatched the fallen weapon and stuck it in his thigh before spinning back around to strike the other boy in the throat with my fist, completely closing off his airway.

All three were down without a single use of magic. I was feeling pretty good about that when one of my visions hit me and I ducked. I could feel the wind on my hair as the club flew over my head. I spun and swept the kid’s feet out from under him, cutting the muscles in his shoulder with my newly acquired sword. He wouldn’t be fighting after that.

By the time I had cleared a path to the Guard, two Avalanche beaters had pinned Sapphire’s arms behind her back and pulled her away from the others. A third reached for her tunic. The look in his eyes left no question as to his intentions.

“You touch me and I’ll kill you!” She spat on the beater and he growled at her in return. She hissed at them as she fought to break free. She bit at the boy’s hands as he grabbed for her shirt and he backhanded her across her face. Her head lashed to the right, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. I wanted to howl my frustration. With Spats and what was left of the Guard standing between us, I had no way to get to her.

Another vision struck and I swept my sword upward. My parry deflected the attacker’s blade and I took the opening to turn and kick him in the knee. It gave with a pop and the boy screamed in pain and collapsed. I ignored him and searched for a way to reach Sapphire. The kid I had punched in the throat earlier was now on his hands and knees, and only a foot or two from the Hurricane Guard.

An idea flickered to life. If I could reach him with enough speed, and he didn’t buckle under my weight, it might work. I had to make sure I hit the right spot. If I were to step anywhere other than directly on his hip, I’d probably break his back and send myself flying headfirst into the street.

I took a deep breath and charged. By the time I kicked off my human footstool, I had enough speed to vault myself over the Guard. Miraculously, the boy’s knees didn’t give way, but his curses followed me as I flew over the fighting.

Spats’ jaw dropped as I sailed overhead and cushioned my landing with a few Avalanchers on the other side. I cut my way through and rushed the three boys holding Sapphire.

The two holding her arms never saw me coming. A swift blow to the head of one and a deep stab to the thigh of the other had them writhing on the cobbles in no time. As soon as they let go, Sapphire kicked her knee straight up between the remaining beater’s legs. The boy sang like a troubadour as he grabbed his lower parts and doubled over, just far enough for her to use that same knee to smash his face.

She retrieved her sword and would have finished the boys off if I hadn’t grabbed her and pulled her back. “We need to get our people out of here.”

I helped myself to a dagger, courtesy of one of Sapphire’s attackers. With that and my sword, I started cutting a hole through the Avalanche forces behind us. My body seemed to take over as my magic flowed through me. My ability as a repeater allowed me to move and fight with inhuman precision. I blocked with the sword and thrust and cut with the dagger. I never used them to decapitate or fatally wound, just to keep the beaters down and unable to counter. My visions kept me a step ahead.

Sapphire was right beside me. Her ability to parry and block and move was impressive. Her father might have been a faerie spawn, but he had taught her well.

Our Guard’s retreat was slow, but once Sapphire and I had cleared an open path for them, the pace quickened. Spats, just like the coward he was, continued squawking orders for his beaters to keep fighting, even as he was making his fast exit.

“Stay with the Guard,” I told Sapphire as I turned back toward the fighting. “I’m going to see what I can do for the others.”

The screams of the injured and dying up ahead turned my stomach. I couldn’t just leave the rest of Hurricane to die. I had to do something. Reevie would have told me I didn’t owe them anything and to save myself, but something inside said that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. I laid the blame on Master Fentin. If he hadn’t told me that Upaka meant protector and not warrior, I probably wouldn’t have felt so determined. Maybe there really was something to the name.

I retreated back into the cover of the buildings on the left side of the street and started working my way up the lines. It was utter pandemonium. I saw kids no bigger than Reevie get clubbed on the head and crumple. Others were stuck with ice picks and small knives in the front, back, and anywhere else the one holding the weapon was able to strike. Broken bottles savaged any faces within reach.

In all the confusion, beaters from our own tribe were attacking each other, not seeming to care who they fought just so long as they pressed the attack, even though Spats was no longer there to goad them on. He was probably halfway back to the Temple by now.

In front of me, a very large kid with an even larger cudgel spotted me creeping up the side. His white armband was easy to spot. He took one look at my blue one, grunted, and charged. He held his club high, expecting a good swing. That was his mistake. I didn’t need magic, but it came nonetheless. The vision hit me as it always did–a brief warning of danger. I could see it all: the direction of his approach, how many steps, the angle of the swing. It was all there for me to use.

I opted for something a little more subtle. I waited a moment and then kicked an empty crate out in front of the boy’s foot just before it landed. His foot went straight through, sending him tumbling forward. The look on his face as he hit the sidewalk and slid to a stop in front of me was priceless. I kicked the bludgeon from his hand and then the side of his head. He didn’t move. The boy stunk like he hadn’t had a bath in weeks and his mop of sandy blonde hair was matted to his face.

“That was sneaky,” a voice behind me called out. I spun to strike. Sapphire’s blue eyes reflected the moonlight, but her painted face still made me uneasy. “I knew there was more to you than you were letting on.”

“What are you doing here? I told you to protect Spats.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun. Besides,” she said with a smirk, “I figured I owed you one.” She playfully nudged my shoulder and then punched an Avalanche beater in the face before he had a chance to swing his club.

“So you’re finally admitting the value of having someone there to watch your back?”

She smiled. “Don’t press your luck.”

The debris that had been raining down from the second floor windows had ceased. The brunt of the battle was now in the streets, and Hurricane was not winning. Not by a long shot. If we didn’t do something now, there wasn’t going to be anyone left to save. I hoped Reevie was keeping himself hidden and hadn’t decided to play the hero and come look for me.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“The only thing we can do.” I raised my hands to my mouth and shouted. “Retreat!”

My shout only added to the chaos. Our beaters were surrounded and outnumbered. If they were going to have any chance of escape they were going to need a distraction.

Another vision hit and I grabbed Sapphire and yanked her to the side as a large chunk of rock from one of the windows smashed into the street where we had been standing.

Sapphire looked up at the windows. “How did you—”

My magic warned again and I ducked to the side as a thick piece of wood just missed my head. I spun around and cut the kid’s stick in half with my sword.

“I’m on your side, you imbecile! Can’t you see the armband?” I pointed frantically at the blue piece of material on my right arm. Blood was flowing down both sides of the boy’s face. I recognized him. It was one of the kids who had complained about not getting to the armory in time.

There was no time to wait. I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Fall back! And take as many with you as you can.” I turned to Sapphire. “Force them back. They’ll listen to you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Something stupid.”  I pushed the wounded kid into Sapphire’s arms. “Now get them out of here.” She started yelling out orders when another vision struck and I leapt to the side. A sword came down just inches from my left ear. I spun and ducked under the butt end of a spear. There were three of them. A single swipe from my blade and I opened the tendons on the back of the first boy’s leg. He dropped his sword and rolled on the ground clutching his bleeding calf. The girl with the spear moved back to keep out of range of my sword.

The third had a long chain that allowed him to attack from a distance. Having already seen it coming, I stepped to the side and it clanged harmlessly against the street. I grabbed the loose end before he could retrieve it and jerked him forward. He stumbled into the path of the girl’s spear as she swung for my head. The wood caught him in the mouth and sent him tumbling. I flung the chain around her legs and pulled. She hit the cobble, and I could hear her breath wheeze from her lungs.

More Avalanche fighters were on their way, so I grabbed one of the downed kid’s white armbands and made a run for it. As dark as it was, it wasn’t hard to disappear within the shadows, especially when I was heading away from the battle and not towards it. I replaced my blue armband with the white one and headed toward the Avalanche compound.

It’s amazing what a simple arm band and a barely lit night could accomplish. Those members of Avalanche I passed never gave me a second look.

The street ended just in front of the compound. It was too well lit and guarded for me to attempt a direct assault there, so I scanned the last buildings on the street and found a clothesline hanging low enough to reach. I fished a small tinder box from my trousers, one I had found lying around Reevie’s healing quarters during our packing. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this, but what choice did I have? I looked around one last time, but no one was paying attention. I struck the flint and watched the sparks ignite one of the tunics. With the warm breeze, it didn’t take long for the fire to spread.

I left the growing blaze and ran toward the battle. As soon as I came within shouting distance, I raised my arm with its white band and started yelling at the top of my lungs. “Fire! Fire! Avalanche fall back! Fire!”

Those beaters close enough to hear me turned. One look at the fire and they joined in the shouting. Pretty soon, the entire Avalanche force was in a panicked retreat, all thoughts of wiping out their enemies replaced by the desperate need to stop the spread of the flames. By now, all the garments between the two buildings had ignited and the fire was quickly spreading toward the buildings themselves. Smoke filled the street.

I moved to the side of the street to get out of the way of the stampede, tripping over bodies as I went. I didn’t have time to check on the injured. I needed to get back to Reevie.

The wind coming in off the bay forced smoke up the street after me. I couldn’t believe how fast the fire had spread. I could barely see where I was going. By the time I finally found the stack of crates where I had hidden Reevie, my eyes were burning and my lungs ached.

Reevie jumped out and tossed an open bottle of something at me. My magic kicked in and I dodged the flying projectile. I heard the bottle bust on the street and the strong smell of ether joined the overpowering smell of smoke.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I asked, getting ready to duck in case he decided to hurl anything else.

“You came back,” he said, coughing through the smoke. “I thought you were one of them.” He handed me two of the medical packs, and then slung the third over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here.” Reevie had tied some of the cloth bandages around his face to cover his nose and mouth, using them as a filter for the fumes.

I grabbed a bandage from one of the bags and did the same. “No need to tell me twice.”

I put my arm around him and we hurried down the side of Barrel Street, stumbling as we went. I was glad Reevie was there to tell me where to go. If it had been up to me, I’d never have found my way out. I could see why they called it the Maze.

Even with Reevie’s limp, it didn’t take us long to catch up with the rest of Hurricane. With that many wounded and frightened kids trying to get from one side of Cheapside to the other, it was going to be slow. Many needed immediate attention.

Sapphire had managed to get most of Hurricane’s remaining beaters out before the patrollers arrived. They had taken a slightly different route, but we met them in a small deserted part south west of the compound. With Sapphire’s help, we organized a couple of healing stations underneath the street lamps for the most severe–those that wouldn’t last the journey back to the Temple otherwise. There were some that wouldn’t make it back no matter what we did.

It was nearly morning when the Temple’s gates came into view. By then, the stars had winked out of existence and the sky had shifted from black to dull grey. The Watchers on the wall didn’t bother with the password. One look at Sapphire’s face and the gates swung open.

Spats, and what was left of the Guard, had made it back without incident. Before heading for his sleeping quarters, Spats had ordered a double watch posted. He didn’t care if they had to wake the cleaners and the kitchen staff to do it, which explained why Cook’s blurry-eyed face was the one to greet us on our arrival.

Our return was anything but triumphant. Those still carrying weapons drug them behind as they passed through. Many had dropped or discarded theirs along the way. It was a clear trail of breadcrumbs. If there was ever to be an investigation into tonight’s events, it would certainly lead them to the gates of the Temple.

Reevie commandeered the dining hall for triage since it was the largest room available. The little healer barked out orders, and those of us who were still capable of standing on our own jumped to obey, laying out sheets and blankets for the wounded.

We stripped the clothing from injuries and organized the kids into sections, putting the most serious near the front. By the time Reevie had made a single pass of every patient to determine their status, dawn had come and gone and Cook was busy lighting up the hearth.

The cries and groans from those who weren’t going to make it, or at the very least were going to lose a limb or two, was heartbreaking. What had it all been for, I wondered. Were a few stolen items from a warehouse really worth all of this? I wondered what the repercussions would be. Anyone capable of pulling off tonight’s decimating ruse was hardly someone to let this attack go unanswered.

Nearly a week had passed since our battle with Avalanche. Life at the Temple was slowly returning to normal. At least, what could be considered normal with half your tribe out of commission. Some of those left behind in the battle had found their way back the next day. Most of these had been knocked unconscious prior to our retreat. All of them had severe cases of smoke inhalation.

I organized rescue parties to return for all the others we had been forced to leave behind. I led an army of stretchers and hand carts back to the battlefield. Apparently, there was some unspoken rule by the Guild that allowed for safe retrieval of the dead and wounded. Breaking that rule, according to Reevie, would incur the wrath of the other tribes.

The worst of the injured beaters had either died or were slowly fighting their way back under Reevie’s constant supervision. Those with amputations or deep wounds were looking at a long, painful road ahead of them. But as long as the pickers were able to keep us stocked with medicinal supplies, they stood a good chance of recovering. Many would never be able to hold a weapon again. They would mostly likely be reassigned to a position on the watch or the cleaners.

Avalanche had managed to contain the fire to a single building. The two upper floors were gone and the lower ones had enough structural damage that they weren’t worth salvaging. I was thankful the fire hadn’t spread to other sections of Cheapside. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if any of the surrounding neighborhoods had been caught in the blaze.

Sapphire helped where she could, which was usually at night or her meal breaks. Ever since his humiliating defeat, Spats had demanded that the Guard be on continuous watch. I don’t even think he went to the privy without one of them to wipe his backside.

By the time Seconday rolled around, I was going stir crazy. I knew Reevie wouldn’t leave his patients but I needed to get outside the walls. I told him I was going to go check in on Master Fentin and Mistress Orilla. It had been a few weeks since I had been by the shop, and the thought of one of Mistress Orilla’s mystery-meat sandwiches had my legs moving with a little extra zeal as I headed for the front gate.

“Ayrion. Ayrion,” someone called. They seemed anxious. I ignored them, watching the gate, willing the heavy crossbeam to move faster. If I didn’t turn around, maybe they wouldn’t see me. The large metal doors creaked open, a sliver of freedom showing from the other side. I could almost taste the bread and cheese melting in my mouth. Hurry up and open the flaming gate!

“Ayrion!”

“He’s over here,” one of the watchers on the wall shouted. I cursed. If I’d had a rock within reach, he wouldn’t have been up there much longer.

“There you are.”

I took a deep, irritated breath and forced myself to loosen my clenched fists and turned around. One of the cleaners was running toward me. She was tiny and had a white sheet tied around her waist. It hung all the way to her feet, and was stained from where she’d been kneeling on it to scrub the floors. Her smudged hands and face matched the apron. She tripped on it halfway across the yard and fell face first into the dirt. Served her right for cutting off my escape.

I released the breath I’d been holding and tried not to look like I wanted to choke her as she dusted herself off. Maybe whatever she needed wasn’t anything serious. Maybe Reevie wanted me to bring him back a sandwich.

“Spats wants to see you.”

I groaned, not bothering to hide my displeasure. She had hardly finished speaking before she was off again. It was a good thing too, because I nearly changed my mind about the choking.

What could Spats possibly need to see me about? If he wanted to know about the beater’s progress he could just ask Reevie. After Spats’ cowardly behavior on the battlefield, I wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t choke the life out of him when I saw him. I’d be doing the entire tribe a favor if I did. But if I tried to kill Spats, that would cause a lot of problems for Reevie. He was the one who had sponsored my entrance. I grumbled and forced down my desire to disfigure ol’ Weasel Face.

The gate boomed shut behind me and the crossbar dropped back into place with a thud. I was doomed to waste away inside these walls. With slumped shoulders, I made my way to the main building. I still couldn’t figure out why anyone was listening to a single word that waste-of-breath had to say. Had the entire tribe lost the ability to think for themselves?

My stomach growled its complaint at having been denied its sandwich as I waited outside Spats’ office. The same two boys were standing in front, blocking my way. They weren’t sneering as they had before. They simply stood there staring at the wall in front of them.

I felt queasy. My goal of just keeping my head down and staying out of people’s way had been destroyed during the battle. I had no idea what Spats wanted, but hoped it was just an update on the injured.

His door opened and Sapphire was there to greet me. Her bright blue eyes were kind, but determined.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Spats called out from the other side of the room. “Come in, and close the door behind you.” He sounded eager, which was worrisome. The two guards didn’t bother following me inside.

The chief’s study was in shambles. There were papers scattered everywhere, weapons within quick reach from any location in the room, and even a large cot at the back. This looked to be a case of full-blown paranoia. How was he going to lead an entire tribe when he could barely lead himself from one side of his study to the other?

Around the perimeter of the room, a couple members of the Guard stood watch. I felt like a prisoner on trial, with my executioners just waiting for the signal. I started running through scenarios in my head of how I was going to fight my way out in case Spats had decided I was too much of a risk to have around.

“I’ve never done this before,” Spats said in his annoyingly high-pitched voice. He stood next to his desk, solemn, like a judge about to pass sentence. His arms were folded. He had a short sword strapped to one hip and a dagger on the other.  After the battle we’d just survived, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a brace of knives tucked into his boots and a hatchet sticking out the back of his long underwear.

“I don’t think any chief has done this before.”

Spats’ pronouncement did little to calm my nerves. My palms started to sweat. I glanced at the Guard. They were armed to the teeth. I looked to see how close their hands were to their weapons, trying to determine whether their bodies were relaxed or tense, ready for action. Attempting to fight my way back to the door would be a mistake. My best chance would be grabbing Spats. I could probably use him as leverage to get myself outside the Temple’s gates.

Spats opened a large chest in front of his desk, his back to me, blocking my view. Sure enough there was a handle to some sort of weapon sticking out of his trousers. I tried shifting to my other foot to see what he was rummaging for, but it didn’t help.

I hadn’t received any visions of warning, but my magic had failed me before, during my melee with Red and her tribe. My fingers inched toward the knife in my jerkin when Spats turned and threw a piece of heavy black material at me. I ducked and the guard behind me caught the material in the face. He growled but handed the object to me.

There was a wide, almost mischievous, grin on Spats’ face as I held up the material. I opened it all the way to get a better idea of what I was looking at. It was a roughly made piece of black leather with a hole on either side. Slowly it dawned on me that the item I was holding was a vest.

Sapphire was beaming.

“I don’t understand,” I said as I lowered the vest.

“You’re getting promoted, you buffoon,” Spats said, looking a little perplexed at my lack of enthusiasm. “I just made you one of the Guard, and without having gone through the Soren Challenge no less.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I had no idea what he was talking about. I’d never heard of the Soren Challenge.

Spats waited for my excitement to kick in, but it never came. “It’s a great honor,” he continued, as if feeling the need to explain his actions. “Every kid out there dreams of being on the Guard, and I’m just handing it to you.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spats said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He fingered his chin. “Hmmm, let me think.” He fingered his chin. “Maybe because you single handedly took out a dozen Avalanche beaters without them landing a single blow. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that.” Spats raised his arms and acted out a mock battle. “You were like, hah, take that, and that. And then you punched left and kicked right and flew over our heads like some crazy winged monkey. No one even came close to laying a hand on you. It was like . . . like . . .” Spats stared at me with a curious look and then waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, never mind.”

I knew what he was about to say. It was like magic.

I’d really done it this time. I gripped the leather considered the ramifications of my lack of forethought. I should have just let Avalanche have them. I probably would have if it hadn’t been for Sapphire, who was standing there with an even bigger smile on her face than Spats, if that was possible. She even had the audacity to wink at me.

“You’re my new good luck charm,” Spats said. “And I have the perfect way to test you out. The Guild has called an assembly. You and Sapphire are going with me.”

I offered a half-hearted smile. “Lucky me.”

“Yes, I thought you’d like that.” Spats apparently couldn’t tell the difference between me being serious or sarcastic. Sapphire could, and she gave me a harsh look.

“I’ve given you a great privilege. I hope you don’t embarrass me.”

I wanted to laugh. Those were Reevie’s exact words before ushering me into the Temple for the first time.  “Wouldn’t dream of it, my chief,” I said with a low deferential bow. I even threw in a sweep of my hand just for flare.

Spats clearly appreciated the gesture as he straightened his back. “Pack whatever weapons you might need. You will have free pick of whatever we have.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, we leave after lunch. Now go.” He waved everyone out of the room.

I’m sure there should have been a thousand different thoughts running through my head, but all I could think of as I left Spats’ office was that I was finally going to see Red again. That is, until a more urgent thought took its place.

How in the name of Aldor was I going to break the news to Reevie?

“I guess this means we’ll be spending a lot more time together, Grey Eyes,” Sapphire said as we left Spats’ office and headed for the armory. The way she looked at me had somehow changed since the battle. She was uncomfortably close. I was glad we were friends, but the type of friend she seemed to want was more than I thought myself ready for. I was only thirteen. She was closer to fifteen. I’m not saying I didn’t think she was pretty. She was. Or that I wasn’t flattered by her attention. Who wouldn’t be? It’s just that it had barely been six months since I’d been banished from my home and had my whole life turned upside down. And even before then I’d never really been one to go for all that mushy stuff—not that I’d ever been given the opportunity. Romantic involvements of any kind before completing training was severely frowned on.

The armory was nearly as bare as when I had seen it last. Most of our weaponry hadn’t returned from the battle. Not that I was surprised. I don’t think a single member of this tribe had ever been trained to use a weapon. There hadn’t been any weapons to retrieve with the fallen. Avalanche had already picked them clean after the battle.

I gave the room a quick sweep, but saw nothing worth picking up, so I turned to leave.

“Aren’t you going to get a weapon?” Sapphire asked, playing with the end of her braid. “Walking into a Guild meeting without one is foolish. Each of the chiefs is bringing their biggest, toughest, meanest fighters with them.” She did her best to look down at me, which took some effort considering she was only a half-head taller. “If someone like you were to walk in there without a weapon, it might just give one of the other chief’s the push they need to attempt to put a quick end to us right there.”

“Trust me, I’m armed. Everything in here is just extra weight I don’t need.”

Sapphire took a step back and crossed her arms. She proceeded to scan me from head to toe, brow raised, taking a much longer time of it than necessary.

“Besides, isn’t there a rule against violence at the Guild meetings? It wouldn’t make much sense to attend a meeting if the other heads of the tribes could assassinate you right there.”

“There is,” she said, giving up on her attempt to determine what sort of weapon I had stashed away under my clothing. “But accidents have been known to happen.”

I stepped around her to leave but she grabbed my arm.

“I uh . . . I just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?”

She didn’t look at me. Instead, she stared at the floor and poked a spot with the tip of her boot. “For what you did during the fight, for . . . coming for me.”

“That’s what friends do.”

She looked up. “We’re friends?”

“Why? You don’t want to be my friend?”

Her cheeks reddened. “I . . . don’t know. I suppose.”

“Are you sure? I remember you telling me something different the last time we spoke.” I rubbed my chin. “What was it? Something about it being safer to be alone, and that you couldn’t trust anyone but yourself.”

Sapphire humphed. “Well, if you’re an example of what friendship is then maybe I was right.” She strutted out the door without saying another word, making sure to playfully nudge my shoulder on the way by. I smiled, but I kept my back to her so she wouldn’t see. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to find myself enjoying her playful gestures. I took a moment to compose myself, then left the room and followed her down the hall.

Sapphire had almost made me forget about the conversation I was about to have with Reevie. I doubted it would be as enjoyable.

The closer we got to the kitchens the more hesitant I became, especially since everyone had noticed my new black vest. Hushed whispers followed us. I stopped outside the dining hall and looked for Reevie. He was at the back, spoon-feeding some of the wounded.

“I need to talk to Reevie.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” she said, walking over to get in line. “But hurry. We need to be ready whenever Spats decides to leave.”

I nodded and waited for another group of kids to enter before following them in. I wanted to get as close as I could before Reevie saw me. I was hoping to sneak up behind him and see how long it took for him to notice. He was so busy helping one of the amputees with their stew that he never saw me approach.

“It’s been a while since you fed me like that,” I said, hoping to put him in a good mood and soften the scolding I was sure to get when he saw what I was wearing.

Reevie started to turn. “If you miss it so much then go get your arm chopped–Black vomit!” he shouted when he saw my vest.

All noise in the room died. You could have heard a spoon drop, in fact, there were a few that did. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on us. When your healer starts hollering about black vomit in the middle of the dining hall, it tends to put everyone on edge.

“Sorry,” Reevie said, waving his hand in the air. “Misdiagnosis. Nothing to worry about. Go back to your eating.” He grabbed me by the arm and marched me out the back door and onto the covered the walkway that led to the sleeping quarters.

“What’s this?” Reevie said grabbing and tugging at my new outerwear. “I thought I told you to stay out of trouble; not jump in feet-first.” His eyes were bloodshot. I couldn’t tell if it was from the sudden outburst or the lack of sleep over the last week. “Now you’ve gone and done it! How are you going to get back to the granary now? You’re stuck here. You’re Spats’ little protector. You’ll be at his beck and call night and day from now–”

“Look,” I said, calmly, but still firm. “I didn’t have a choice. What was I going to do, leave everyone there to die?” I glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to listen. “Would you rather I had let them all get slaughtered?”

Reevie sighed. “I suppose not.” His words almost seemed forced.

“And what was I supposed to do when Spats handed me the vest and told me that he was going to do what no other chief had done and promote me without undergoing something called the Sor . . . Sor—”

“Soren Challenge.”

“Right, the Soren Challenge. What was I supposed to do, toss the vest back in his face and tell him that Reevie wouldn’t let me take it?”

Reevie nearly choked.

“What’s this Soren Challenge, anyway?”

“It’s a test of skill, bravery, and downright madness, if you ask me. You have to pass it to join the Guard. It’s one of the reasons so many of the other kids fear and respect the Guard. The fact that Spats is breaking with tradition and simply handing you your vest means there must have been more to that battle than what you told me.” He studied my face, looking for confirmation.

“Okay, I might have put up more of a fight than what I let on, but like I said, I didn’t have much of a choice.” Since we were already having such a pleasant conversation, I figured I might as well tell him the rest. “Oh, and Spats just picked me to escort him to a Guild meeting this afternoon.”

“He did what?” Reevie looked like he was about to punch me. His face had turned a nice shade of plum. “The Guild? Are you insane! Those meetings can be dangerous!”

“Which is why Spats said he wants me by his side when he goes. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be going alone. Sapphire will be there.”

“Sapphire?” Reevie was having a hard time catching his breath. “Well, at least one of you will have a lick of common sense.” He opened the door. “You’ve either got the best–or worst–luck of anyone I’ve ever known. And don’t ask me which. I’ll let you know if you make it back from the Guild in one piece.” Reevie shook his head and stepped inside.

I definitely couldn’t argue with that.

The growing silence between us did nothing to soothe my nerves as Sapphire and I accompanied Spats from the Temple to the Guild. It felt oddly strange to be clean again. I’d almost grown accustomed to the smell of my own body. Now it was the smell of mint and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on that had me constantly sniffing. Spats wanted to make sure we were presentable for the meeting.

Like Sapphire, I was wearing my best outfit, which in my case was my only outfit. Spats, too, had dressed up for the occasion. The mostly-clean clothes and washed bodies helped us to blend in as we moved through the busy streets. We could have passed for a group of merchant’s children.

At the Temple, everyone was quick to get out of the Guard’s way, but not the good citizens of Aramoor. More often than not, we were the ones moving to avoid getting trampled.

It would have been a beautiful day for a stroll if my head hadn’t been pounding. Like my visions, it seemed to be warning me of what was coming. The further we wandered into the city the more anxious I became. Other than worrying about what would be expected of me when we got there, my only thought was that I was finally going to be standing in the same room as Red. I would once again have the opportunity to look my enemy in the eyes. Unfortunately, looking her in the eyes was the only thing I would be able to do. It wasn’t like I could attack a tribal chief right in the middle of the Guild assembly. Could I?

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

The warm breeze blowing in off the bay kept the clouds moving at a steady pace, casting fleeting shadows across the flowing tide of people around us. The shade, when it came, was appreciated. I could already feel sweat running down my back as we crossed one of the Tansian River’s many bridges. The heavy black vest pressing my shirt to my skin didn’t help.

I had been excited to find that my vest had a number of small straps sewn into the lining. Much like the pockets I had sewn on my jerkin, they let me keep my blade available and out of sight. I allowed myself to daydream about it making an appearance at the upcoming meeting, but I pushed the thought down. Attacking Red at the meeting would be foolish. I might have been banished, but I was still Upaka. I needed to be patient. I would wait until I was reasonably sure I could both hit my target and manage a safe escape just as I’d been trained to do.

No matter what humiliation I had suffered at Red’s hands, I couldn’t let that anger control me, even though right now, I felt some vindication was exactly what I needed.

A gust of wind blew several strands of hair into my eyes. I tucked them back behind my ear and cast a furtive glance at Sapphire. The sleeves of her white tunic were tied off halfway up her arms. She moved with determination, her stern gaze letting those around her know that she was not someone you wanted to mess with. It was clear why Spats had chosen her as his first. I had no idea what the duties of the Guard entailed, other than the obvious, protecting Spats. All I could do was follow along, since I had no idea where the Guild Hall was located.

The streets of Aramoor were laden with the sounds of commerce. Costermongers lined both sides of South Avis leading into the Merchant District. Their calls blended together into a single chorus of desperation as they worked to draw customers to their wares. Watching the vendors sell from their carts, I was reminded of Neelan the farmer and his wife and son. I wondered if they were here. I studied the faces of those we passed, hoping to catch a glimpse that never came.

There was a noticeable difference between the glamor of the Merchant District and the hovels found in Cheapside. The streets were cleaner. The buildings were of such grand design and magnitude that even the largest of the shops operating in the lower district would have fit into a single one of their cellars.

Carriages and carts moved slowly up and down the South Avis like boats on the Tansian River, transporting goods and passengers. The very air smelled of new leather, perfumed bodies, and fresh baked goods, a sharp contrast to the hard sweat, urine, and sour ale found in the lower regions.

Like King’s Way East and King’s Way West, North and South Avis ran from one end of Aramoor to the other. Both of these streets met at King’s Square at the center of the Merchant District. The square’s main feature was a large park.

Spats led us to one of the fountains inside the park. At its center was an enormous statue of a man on top a powerful steed. He wore an elaborate crown and held a sword overhead as if signaling a charge in battle.

“Is that the king?” I asked Sapphire, keeping my voice low so as not to sound ignorant to anyone nearby.

Sapphire nodded.

Spats pulled out a small pouch of coins. He dug through until he’d found a single copper piece. He lifted the coin to his lips, and then tossed it into the fountain.

“For luck,” Sapphire said when she saw the confused expression on my face. I wasn’t sure how kissing a piece of copper and tossing it into a pool of water was going to bring good luck, but we needed all the help we could get. In fact, if I had owned a copper piece myself, I might have been tempted to do the same.

The coin barely had time to hit the bottom before Spats was off again. We left the fountain and took the north trail out of the park. From there we followed King’s Way West which was crowded with carriages, horses, and pedestrians. The wonderful smell of roast pheasant and freshly baked bread coming from some of the nearby eateries set my stomach to grumbling again.

Once outside the main shopping district, we headed northeast. The buildings in this part of the city were even grander than those in King’s Square. Five in particular towered over the rest. They were round, like giant pillars, with a network of enclosed walkways stringing them together. I could only imagine something like that being built with magic.

Some of the walkways rose hundreds of feet in the air. Others were low enough for me to see the people walking through. Excited children pressed their faces to the glass and waved at the crowds below.

I hoped that the Guild Hall was in one of those five buildings, just for the chance to walk across one of the elevated walkways. And as if he’d heard my unspoken wish, Spats lead us across the road, dodging carriages as we went. I could barely contain my excitement when we entered the first building on the left. We were standing in an open foyer that rose all the way to the top. I couldn’t count the floors. It seemed to reach to the clouds. At the center was a circular stairwell filled with bodies, their heads bobbing up and down as they ascended and descended in an orderly fashion.

Both the floors and the walls were made of a soft grey marble with dark red veins that gently reflected the light from the windows above. All the pillars, railings, and archways were trimmed in gold-leaf. Life-size murals filled the empty spaces between windows, and long tapestries hung from each floor. In a way it reminded me of the Temple. While it didn’t have the delicate features and smooth curvature of the Temple’s architecture, it definitely had the rich coloring.

Spats and Sapphire had already started up the stairs before I realized I was still standing in the entrance, mouth open. I ran to catch up. More than one person cast a scrutinizing glare our way. Even wearing our best outfits, we still seemed to stick out. The looks didn’t seem to bother Spats or Sapphire and no one tried to stop us.

I found if I walked close to one of the women heading in the same direction that the stares ceased. No one seemed to care as long as we appeared to be chaperoned.

We climbed for what felt like hours. About halfway up, Spats finally exited the stairs and headed for one of the connecting walkways. My heart raced. Both he and Sapphire made it a few steps in before turning around to look at me. The expression on my face as I cautiously made my way out onto the covered bridge must have been what they were hoping for as they shared a satisfied grin.

“Bet you’ve never seen anything like this before,” Spats said in his high-pitched voice, which I was too overwhelmed to even find annoying. I was standing on a walkway that was probably a hundred feet in the air and yet lacked any kind of truss or crossbeam support.

We paused long enough to look out one of the windows. Even though I’d had the fear of heights trained out of me, this was something totally different. I squashed the queasy feeling and told myself that people had been using these things for years and therefore they must be safe.

“Wizards built this over a thousand years ago,” Spats said, as if reading my thoughts.

A thousand years? He could have kept that little tidbit to himself. A thousand-year-old walkway . . . what could be safer? With all the fear and hate of magic and its uses, I was surprised these buildings were still allowed to stand–or be used.

Sapphire smiled and reached for my hand as we stared out the window at the ant-size people below. A tingling sensation flooded through me much the way my magic would when I called it forth. Suddenly, all those emotions of imagining myself plummeting to my death disappeared, and had me questioning whether all that mushy stuff wasn’t so bad after all. My hand felt hot and sweaty, but the thrill made it worth it.

“Come on,” Spats said as he pushed off from the glass and started across the walkway, “I don’t want to be late.”

Sapphire released my hand and we fell into place behind him, neither of us saying a word.

Once inside the next building, we took the stairs up two levels and started down another set of corridors. Each floor seemed to have its own color scheme. This particular hallway was lined by a thick woven runner of dark teal with gold tasseling. Even the decorative vases on the tables were teal and gold, complete with meticulous flower arrangements of the same colors.

The last two passageways were empty. Apart from our footsteps and the flickering hiss of the torches that lined the walls on either side, there was very little noise. Up ahead, I could see a small gathering outside a set of open double doors. There were two well-dressed boys, who looked more like young men by their size, talking off to the side. It was easy to spot them as being the heads of their tribes since each boy had two guards standing directly behind them, just far enough not to appear to be eavesdropping but close enough to react if the need arose. Spats lack of reaction let me know that neither of the two boys was Cutter.

“The one on the left is Kore,” Sapphire whispered as we drew closer. “He’s the head of Rockslide. The one on the right is Noph, head of Sandstorm.”

One look at the cut of their chief’s clothing compared to ours and I could see I had joined the wrong tribe. Even their guards were better dressed. Along with their newish-looking clothing, they wore actual sheaths for their swords, unlike Sapphire who carried hers in her belt and me who didn’t have a sword at all. Meanwhile Spats’ wore tan trousers, a white top, and a blue silk vest with a white cravat. The lace was flat as though it had been slept on, and the once dark-blue brocade had begun to lighten with age. It was probably the only outfit he had to wear for meetings with the Guild.

The other two chiefs wore suede waistcoats with decorative stitching. One of the coats was a deep purple to match Sandstorm’s colors, and the other hunter green for Rockslide. I wondered how it was these two had managed to procure such expensive looking clothing. Were the pickings on this side of town that much richer than ours, or was there another reason?

Spats pushed out his chest and straightened his back as we approached. In his flat lace and worn brocade, he looked more like an underpaid street performer than the head of his own tribe.

The other two didn’t so much as glance his way. I was honestly feeling sorry for the little redheaded weasel–as sorry as I could under the circumstances.

The four guards kept a close eye on us as we passed. They nodded at Sapphire, but took one look at me and chuckled, shaking their heads as they did.  We moved through the open doors and into a very large sitting room.

“Wait here,” Spats said as he walked over to an older gentleman sitting at a small desk just left of a set of closed doors. The greeter wore a pale green suit with a fluffy sort of hat that kept falling forward every time he moved his head. There was a large book in front of him along with a feather quill jar of ink.

“The chiefs have to sign in before entering,” Sapphire said, moving alongside me.

I looked around the room, noting the ornate furnishing. I had to wonder if we were in the right place. “How are we even allowed up here? Why aren’t the patrollers rushing in here to have us all thrown in the dungeons?”

Sapphire kept her eye on Spats as she answered. “One thing you’ll learn really quickly in Aramoor is that the size of your purse speaks louder than anything else. It’s amazing what people are willing to accept when gold is involved. The rooms up here are purchased by organizations and individuals who prefer their privacy, and those that rent them out are well compensated for their discretion.”

“That still doesn’t explain how we are able to afford them.”

“Not every tribe is like Hurricane and Avalanche. Those that work the northern sections of the city tend to have much wealthier pickings, not to mention the occasional contract for the aristocracy.”

Before I had a chance to ask what she meant, Spats motioned for us to join him. “We’re the third to sign in. Avalanche and Wildfire haven’t arrived yet.”

“They’ll be here soon enough,” Noph of Sandstorm said as he and his guards moved past.

Spats moved to follow the Sandstorm delegates, but a strong arm shoved him out of the way. “Move aside, Hurricane,” Kore said, as he followed Noph into the next room. “You’re the reason I had to get dressed up and come down here.”

“Hey, watch it!” Spats shot back. “You try that again and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Kore asked as he turned around to look Spats in the eyes, “sic your girl and your . . .” he looked at me and, like everyone else who notices my eyes for the first time, flinched, “your pet on me?” His laughter followed him into the next room, his guards close on his heels. They both smiled at me on their way by, and not in a friendly way.

This was really starting to feel like a bad idea.

I found the luxury of the Guild’s council chambers hard to believe, considering some of us were struggling just to find enough food to make it through another day.

Unlike the beautiful but austere marble foyer and halls we had walked through on our way up, these rooms were fashioned with a dark cherry wood, giving the place a more relaxed feel. The carpeting was the same teal and gold as the rest of the rooms on this level. Thick velvet drapes hung to either side of an enormous window at the back, giving us a clear view of the city.

There was a fire in the hearth and chandeliers overhead, supplementing the light coming from outside. I hadn’t noticed until now, but the building seemed impervious to the summer heat. In fact, I was actually hoping Spats would move a little closer to the fire.

In front of the window was a circular table, crafted from the same cherry as the wood paneling, with five high-back chairs evenly spaced around it. In front of each chair lay a colored marker, one for each of the five tribes. There were seating areas placed around the room, five in all, each positioned a safe distance from the next. At each, cushioned chairs and sofas surrounded a covered table with pitchers of drink and trays of snacks. We followed Spats over to the sitting area farthest from the other two chiefs.

Spats poured himself a glass of something red from a decanter and grabbed a handful of sugar-covered scones from the plate. He plopped down on the nearest sofa and began stuffing the sweet bread into his mouth.

I wanted to sample one of the glazed tarts but decided against it since Sapphire hadn’t touched anything. Instead, the two of us stood guard behind the sofa and kept an eye on the others.

“What do we do now?” I whispered, low enough so only she could hear.

Sapphire leaned in. “We wait.”

“Then what?”

“Then, while they hold their meeting and discuss whatever it is they came to discuss, we wait some more.”

“Wow. That sounds exciting.” My voice dripped with all the enthusiasm I wasn’t feeling.

She smiled.

Raised voices from outside the room caught my attention.

“Sign it yourself, old man!”

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot let you in if you won’t sign first.” The old attendee had left his desk and planted himself firmly between the open doors. He had lost his fluffy green hat in the process.

“And just how do you plan on stopping me?”

Our position against the far wall allowed us a clear view of the tall boy harassing the attendant. He was covered from head to toe in brown suede. A large brimmed hat cast a long shadow across his scruffy face. The only colored accent to his outfit was a white sash he had tied around his waist. Even the falchion he wore had a dark hilt and sheath. From the way Spats was choking, it was safe to assume this must be Cutter.

“Oh, just sign the flaming book for pity’s sake, Cutter, so we can get on with this meeting,” Kore barked, nursing a glass of his own from the sitting area closest to the hearth.

Cutter growled and then grabbed the quill and scratched what looked like a large “X” across half the page.

“He’s just embarrassed that he can’t write his name,” Noph said with a chuckle, having already assumed his seat at the meeting table.

The old attendant reached for his fallen hat, but Cutter kicked it back out into the hallway.

Spats’s shoulders were quivering. I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or rage, or both. One look at the Avalanche chief and I was ready to make him eat the old man’s hat myself . . . his own too, for that matter. Cutter gave Spats a scowl as he headed for the meeting table. When he saw me, a flicker of something crossed his face, but was quickly replaced with a sneer.

Sapphire saw it as well. “I wonder what that was about.”

I shrugged. “No idea.”

“Where’s Red?” Cutter asked as he pulled out his seat and sat down.

“Late as usual,” Noph said. He twirled the liquid in his glass and took a sniff before upending it.

“No doubt still preening,” Kore added as he moved to the window and looked down at the streets below.

Cutter pulled his sword from its sheath and let it clang across the table in front of him. “That’s what you get when you let a girl take over as chief of a tribe. Girls should know their place in the world—”

“And where would that be?” a warm, sultry voice called from the doorway. “Serving your dinner while patting you gently on that flat backside of yours?”

Spats laughed out loud. Kore and Noph looked amused but remained silent. My fists clenched on reflex. One look at Red and all those emotions I had tried to bury fought to break free. Her long, raven hair hung all the way down her back, her lips had been painted the same bright red as her vest, which she wore over a pair of black trousers and white silk tunic. Her boots, like Sapphire’s, widened at the knee. She topped it all with a wide brimmed hat, which she removed before shaking out her thick mane, making sure to take her time as she combed her hands through the waves.

Sapphire huffed at the display. Cutter, too, sneered, but he didn’t avert his eyes. I couldn’t blame him. I hated her, and even I couldn’t tear my eyes away. There was something about the Wildfire chief that simply drew you in. Other than Spats, she was probably the youngest of the chiefs. The others all appeared to be somewhere between eighteen and nineteen.

Red’s guards fell in step behind her as she moved across the room. I recognized Toothless right away. I wondered how he was enjoying his soup. The other guard was a short, pudgy kid with black hair who, like me, didn’t appear to belong.

Something was off. I felt . . . different. Like a part of me was missing. The feeling was similar to dreams I used have where I would find myself strolling down a busy street in my best shirt and shoes, only to realize I was lacking my pants. The numbness that crept over me was the same as the last time I had faced her. Except the last time, she had a couple dozen of her beaters there to keep me company.

She tossed a quick glance at Spats before prancing over to an empty sitting area and pouring a tall glass of whatever the red stuff was. I thought it ironic that those of us who probably needed it most were the only ones not drinking it.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Noph said as he leaned forward and rested the purple sleeves of his coat on the table. “I’ve got a dinner party tonight, pheasant with spinach-stuffed portabellas.”

Pheasant? And what were spinach-stuffed portabellas? Considering I had never had them before, it was reasonable to assume they were expensive. Where did they get the gold to hold dinner parties? My stomach growled and Sapphire rewarded me with a sharp elbow to the ribs. I gave her an apologetic look. It wasn’t like I could help it.

Spats reluctantly left the sofa and joined the others around the table. I was very thankful that Hurricane’s seating was on the opposite side from Avalanche. The last thing we needed was for Spats and Cutter to be placed within reach of each other, not that I believed for a minute that Spats would even be able to pull his weapon before Cutter finished him. Then again, that was why we were here.

Spats found his seat, and Sapphire and I assumed our places behind it. I stared at Red. She hadn’t caught me looking yet. I seared her face into my memory, which wasn’t difficult to do. If I had been an artist, I could have painted her portrait from the first time we’d met.

I wondered if she would recognize me. The last time she’d seen my face, it was swollen to the size of a ripe honeymelon. She might if she saw my eyes, so I quickly lowered my head.

Kore was the last to take his seat, to Spats’s right. Next to Kore was Cutter, then Red, followed lastly by Noph—quite the merry little band of street thugs. With all the harsh looks and deadly stares being tossed around, I wondered how long it would be before one or two of those seats were vacant.

This meeting had the potential to go very wrong very quickly.

“Alright,” Noph said, straightening his sleeve cuffs. “To business. We’ve been informed that there was an unwarranted incursion into the Avalanche’s territories last week, and—”

“Unwarranted? The Defiler it was!” Spats screeched, shooting out of his seat. He splashed part of his drink on the table as he pointed at Cutter. “He raided our food stores!”

Cutter feigned a startled look. “What? Steal your food? We did no such thing. Your attack was completely unprovoked. We were just minding our own business when you sent your beaters sneaking into our home, at night, to murder us in our sleep.”

“That’s a lie! You . . . you liar!” Spats’s face was as red as his hair. “Why else would you and your beaters have been lying in wait for us? You knew we were coming because you attacked first. You knew we would retaliate.”

“Where’s your proof?” Cutter asked. “Where’s your evidence that condemns me and my tribe of this heinous act?”

“Our warehouse is empty. That’s my proof. We all know your territories have yielded little food this season. Every time the Guild meets, all you gripe: ‘Avalanche has no food, boohoo, we need more picking grounds.’ I know it was you. And you know it was you.”

“I know it was me? That’s the most ridiculous logic I’ve ever heard. That’s your proof? That I know it was me?” Cutter turned back to the other members who had remained surprisingly quiet during the near shouting match. “This is why I questioned the decision to let someone so young lead.”

“Just a moment ago, Cutter, you were busy lecturing us on why I shouldn’t be allowed to head my own tribe either,” Red said as she flipped a small jeweled dagger between her fingers. “By your logic, age and sex play a pivotal role in whether someone is worthy to be leader or not.” She pointed her blade at the Avalanche chief. “I say that someone too stupid to write his own name should be stricken from that list as well.”

Spats laughed. Noph held his in, but there was a grin on his face. Cutter’s cheeks nearly matched the paint on Red’s lips. She had ripped the legs right out from under him without even leaving her seat. I almost wished I didn’t have to loathe her so much.

“Enough of this,” Kore said, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re giving me a headache. On one hand, we have Hurricane claiming their warehouse and food storage was raided by Avalanche, and on the other, we have Avalanche claiming that Hurricane executed an attack against them without provocation. The fact is, we know there was a battle, and it was bad enough to get the attention of the patrollers.” Kore turned to Spats. “Did Hurricane attack Avalanche?”

“Only because they raided our warehouse and stole a large portion of our—”

“I didn’t ask you why. I asked you if you did.”

Spats reluctantly nodded.

Kore turned to Cutter. “Where did this aggression take place?”

“Barrel Street. Just outside our compound.”

“So it was clearly in Avalanche’s territories?”

“You could have hit my bedroom window with a rock,” Cutter said as he slid back in his seat, sensing justice swinging in his direction.

“And did you or any of your people raid the Hurricane warehouse?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, there you have it,” Kore said. “Hurricane is clearly in the wrong.”

Spats slammed his fist on the table. “And how do you figure that?”

“‘Cause you just admitted taking your beaters on a clear aggression against Avalanche. And as far as the raiding of your warehouse, all we have is your word against his.” Kore took another swallow of his drink and glanced around the table with a proud smile as though he had just mediated a truce between Elondria and Cylmar. “That was easy. Now let’s declare punishment and go home.”

“Yes, let’s,” Cutter said with a wicked grin.

I was shocked at the so-called justice, or injustice, of this council. They were clearly ignoring the most important piece of evidence—the battle itself. Any sane person could have seen that the entire thing had been orchestrated. How else would Avalanche have known we were coming and been able to set up such an effective ambush?

“Not so fast,” Noph interjected. “As keen as I am to make it back in time for my pheasant, I can’t help but think that something seems amiss. First of all, the animosity between these two is no secret.”

Red grunted her agreement.

Noph waited to see if she was going to say more before turning to Cutter. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that this was a completely unprovoked attack, correct? And that you had absolutely no idea that Spats was going to bring his beaters into your territory looking for a fight?”

“Absolutely. That’s exactly what I’m saying. We had no idea Hurricane would ever do such a thing, and against their neighbors nonetheless. If we had only known that they were having such difficulties, we could have lent aid. All they needed to have done was ask and we would have provided whatever help we could. We might be a poor community, but we are more than willing to share what we have with those in need.” I actually thought Cutter was going to wipe a tear from his eye by the end of his speech.

“Hmm.” Noph pinched his chin. “Then I guess what I don’t quite understand is that if this had been as unexpected as you claim, and you had been taken completely unawares, how was Hurricane nearly annihilated that night instead of Avalanche? From what I’ve heard, Avalanche came away with hardly a scratch while Hurricane is still burying their dead?”

I breathed a small sigh of relief, glad to see someone in the Guild had a lick of common sense. Cutter glanced at the other members as they waited for an answer. “It’s obvious why we came out on top. Because . . . because we have a more superior fighting force.”

“You lying spawn of a faerie!” Spats interjected. “They were waiting for us. The entire thing was an ambush. They tried to trap us.”

I could see a smirk creeping across Cutter’s face from across the table. “All the street lamps had been extinguished,” Spats roared. “They had people shooting at us from every window. If it wasn’t for my quick thinking, we’d all be dead right now.”

Sapphire shifted from one foot to the other. She must not have been happy with Spats taking credit for himself.

“Thankfully,” Spats said, “I have a gift for strategy—”

“Strategy?” Cutter leaned forward, his jacket’s brown sleeves on the table. “If it had been up to you, you all would most certainly be dead! All that screaming about cutting people’s feet.” He started to laugh. “The only reason you managed to escape was because one of your people decided to light a fire in the middle of the Maze!”

The others leaned forward in their seats.

I felt a chill. How could he have known Hurricane set the fire? I had one of Avalanche’s white armbands on.

“And he’s the one who done it,” Cutter said, pointing directly at me.

I couldn’t believe it. How did he know I was the one? I could feel Cutter’s gaze boring into the top of my skull like a hot poker. I started running through possible scenarios if they tried to subdue me. Cutter’s falchion was still sitting on the table in front of him, but I could plant a knife in his chest before he had a chance to grab it.

“It’s those eyes. Never seen eyes like that on anyone. Faerie eyes, if you ask me. They reflect the light. I was standing in the building across the street when he set the flame, and even from there, the light reflecting off those eyes was unmistakable.” Cutter sneered. “Now it all makes sense. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why one of my own people would be setting fire to our homes, but now I see that cowardice is how Spats runs his tribe.”

Spats was speechless, probably for the first time in his life.

The others at the table shifted in their seats to get a better look at me.

“Now you tell me,” Cutter said. “What sort of coward sets fire to a building in the Maze in the middle of a summer drought?”

Our fearless chief never said a word. In fact, he was uncharacteristically silent.

“The kind that is trying to keep his tribe from being completely exterminated,” Sapphire said under her breath, but loud enough that everyone in the room heard it.

Cutter hopped to his feet, his chair tipping backwards and landing with a thump on the teal carpet. “How dare you address us without permission!”

Spats’s face had gone from red to purple. He looked like he was about to explode. I only hoped he didn’t do anything stupid, like go for his blade. With his irrational temperament, you never knew. I could sense the movement of the other guards around the table, their hands slowly sliding toward their waists. This was getting out of hand quickly. All I knew was that if this thing turned ugly, Spats was on his own. I was going straight for Red.

Spats sat forward slowly. I readied myself. Here it comes. But instead of letting Cutter have it, he turned in his seat and looked at Sapphire. “Know your place! Keep your mouth shut!”

I blinked. What just happened? Not only did our chief not stick up for his own people, but he actually had the audacity to belittle us for doing what he should have done in the first place. I had half a mind to toss the weasel out the window and see how long it took him to hit the ground.

There was movement to my left. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of red heading in my direction. I tempted a peek, but quickly averted when I realized who it was.

I was standing close enough to Sapphire to feel her trembling. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword.

“Look at me, boy,” Red said with that low seductive voice of hers. She took a step closer. “Did you not hear me? I said look this way.”

I figured I had better before Sapphire decided she’d had enough and attacked Red. I raised my head and our eyes met. Red’s lips parted into a smile. “It is you.” She turned to the short, pudgy guard on her left. “Po, look who we have here.”

“That’s him sure enough,” Toothless said as he reached for his sword and growled. I half-expected him to attack, but to his credit, he didn’t draw. By now, both Sapphire and Spats had turned to see what they were talking about. There was a befuddled look on Spats’s face, which was nothing new for him. Sapphire’s eyes were smoldering.

Red took a step back to get a better look at me. “It’s our little tourist from the Lost City. I thought for sure we’d seen the last of you after that embarrassing performance the last time we met.”

I balled my fists, took a deep breath, and tried to count to ten.

“You do have a way of getting around, don’t you? First you try taking on Wildfire, now you’re humiliating Avalanche—”

“Watch your mouth, girl,” Cutter said, in the middle of picking up his chair. “It was Hurricane who was running for their lives, not Avalanche.”

“Yes, but as it’s already been established, it was only because this pretty-eyed tourist set your shorts ablaze.”

“Hah! Just another reason why Hurricane should be punished for all of this,” Cutter said, taking his seat.

Red moved a little closer, staring into my eyes. “Such beautiful eyes. Ayr . . . Ayrion, am I right?”

I didn’t want to respond, but she didn’t exactly leave me with much of a choice, so I nodded.

“I always thought that was a pretty name.” She took a step back. “I have an idea,” she said as she sauntered back around to her seat. “It’s been a while since we’ve had some decent entertainment around here, and since we can’t seem to come to an agreement on who was in the right or who was in the wrong, I vote we settle this in the Pit.”

Sapphire tensed and her fingers found mine.

Red gestured to Cutter. “The best from Avalanche against—” She pointed at me. “—our little tourist over here. The winner determines whose tribe is right.” She reclined in her seat with a wickedly satisfied grin.

Kore straightened the lapel of his green waistcoat and leaned forward. “I like it. This argument will finally be put to rest, and we will have the opportunity to make a little coin on the side with some much needed sport. I second the motion.”

“Aye,” Cutter said as he rubbed his hands together in a greedy sort of way, “and I’ve got just the fighter for the job: Flesh Eater.”

Flesh Eater? What sort of a name was that for a kid? It sounded more like a name given to one of the rabid pigmies in the deep jungles near Cylmar.

“I’ll add my vote,” Noph said, “so long as it allows us to call an end to this meeting. Portabellas are no good cold.”

All eyes were on Spats. I don’t know if they needed a unanimous vote or if it was because half the challenge was put on his tribe, but they seemed to be waiting on him to officially confirm the resolution. Spats finally nodded. He never turned to ask for my opinion, never even hesitated to think it through. He just bobbed his head in silence.

“Well, that’s that,” Red said as she stood from her seat. “Do we call this meeting adjourned?”

The members all agreed with a single “Aye.”

Red and her party left the table and started for the double doors. “By the way,” she said, stopping to turn around. She slowly unbuttoned the top of her shirt and provocatively slid her hand down the middle and pulled out a gold chain. There was something dangling from it.

My eyes widened and I could feel the blood in my veins start to boil. It was my father’s ring.

“Thanks for the jewelry,” she said with a wink. “You definitely know how to treat a girl.” I could hear her laughing all the way out the door.

I started after her but Sapphire pulled me back. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

As soon as Red and her entourage had left the Guild, my magic slowly returned. Spats waited for everyone else to leave before finally standing from his seat. His entire body seemed to be shaking as he turned around and looked me in the eyes. “You better be as good as you think you are.” Without saying another word, he turned and left.

Sapphire leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. This time it felt different, more personal. “Don’t worry. You are.”

I was going to be facing someone called Flesh Eater in someplace called the Pit. I better be.

“The Pit? I leave you alone for one afternoon and the next thing I hear is you’re being sent to the Pit! Sweet spreading fungus! Why is this always happening?” Reevie turned his hard glare on Sapphire. “And you! I thought you had something besides potato mash in that thick skull of yours. How could you have let this happen?”

“I . . . I—” She tugged on her braid.

“You’re cursed!” Reevie said, turning back to me with eyes so bloodshot he looked crazed. He tossed the empty satchel he was holding in the trunk beside his desk and slammed the lid shut. “You have to be. No one is this unlucky.” He picked up a quill and jabbed it in my direction. “Whatever you’ve done, you’d better start asking the Creator for forgiveness and a little common sense and maybe, while you’re at it, a couple more feet in height and a hundred pounds of muscle.” He glanced at Sapphire. “Who’s the challenger?”

She swallowed. “Flesh Eater.”

“Flesh Eater! Oh, hanging toe nails! The Creator hates me.” Reevie threw his arms up in frustration. “I should have left you on the streets, but no, I had to do the right thing and save you.” He finally dropped into his chair and placed two fingers on the side of his neck and started counting. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Who’s this Flesh Eater?” I asked.

Reevie lifted his head. “He’s only the biggest, meanest, ugliest piece of infected scum to ever enter the Pit. No one’s ever beaten him.”

“Why is he called Flesh Eater?” I was hesitant to ask.

Sapphire grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”

“Then what’s the Pit?”

Reevie and Sapphire both exchanged a troubled look before Reevie leaned forward and crossed his arms over the neatly stacked vellum scrolls on his desk. He didn’t seem all that concerned about flattening them. “The Pit is where the Guild holds their games. It’s also where the chiefs send the members of their tribe stupid enough to want to join the Guard.”

Sapphire glared at him but Reevie paid her no mind. “Originally, it was a depository for raw ore. It was eventually swallowed up by Cheapside, so the owners sold it to the Guild and moved north.”

“Where does the Guild get all this gold for repositories, lavish meeting rooms, and dinner parties with stuffed portabellas?”

“Stuffed portabellas? Who said anything about stuffed portabellas?” Reevie looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “And what lavish meeting rooms are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you ever been to the Guild Hall?”

Reevie snorted. “Do I look like someone they’d ever want to take to the Guild?”

He had a point. “You should have seen the place,” I said, describing the building with the aerial crosswalks and the marble floors and walls. Reevie said he knew of it, but he’d never been inside. I told him of the grandeur of the meeting room with its lush furnishings and prearranged trays of drinks and sweets, of the wall of books on the second floor, and the grand window overlooking the city. “How could a bunch of street kids afford such things?” I asked. “I doubt you could pick enough pockets in a lifetime to pay for what I saw up there.”

Reevie sat in silence, absorbing it all. “So what’s all this about stuffed portabellas?”

I rolled my eyes. “Forget the portabellas. I want to know how the Guild is able to rent rooms like that, and purchase warehouses, and wear fancy clothes while we are barely able to feed ourselves.” I looked down at my now scuffed shoes. “Apart from Spats, the three of us are probably the best dressed members of our tribe, and that’s only because some woman gave me a gold piece for saving her child.”

“Ah, and there’s your answer,” Reevie said with a smug look.

Now it was my turn to look at him like he was crazy.

“Favors,” he said. “The Guild, even though looked down on by the aristocracy as nothing more than a nuisance to eradicate, secretly uses our services in exchange for certain favors.”

“Like what? What could a lord or lady possibly need from us that they couldn’t pay anyone else in the city for?”

“Discretion,” Sapphire said, butting into the conversation as she walked over to the examination table and sat down. “They pay for our anonymity, as well as our disposability—”

“Sure,” Reevie said. “The aristocracy are politically motivated. Their currency of choice is secrets. If you want to get ahead of one of your rivals, then you blackmail them. But blackmail requires leverage and that’s where we come in. They hire us to follow their rivals around until we find some dirt on them. Our ability to procure certain items is also of particular value to the upper class.

“In other words, they hire us for spying and thieving.”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but yes,” Sapphire said. “And if we get caught, it can’t get traced back to whoever hired us, ‘cause who would ever believe a street rat?”

I was starting to understand. The picture that Reevie and Sapphire painted was a very corrupt and dangerous one.

“Clearly Hurricane isn’t landing many of those contracts. One look at Spats’s clothing compared to the others and you can tell that we here are seriously dredging the bottom of the barrel. You should have seen the suits that Noph and Kore were wearing, not to mention Red—”

Reevie’s head shot up. “I forgot she’d be there. How did that go?”

“I’m being thrown in the Pit. How do you think it went?”

Reevie grimaced. I fiddled with the blade in my vest. “So why is it that those three tribes are in such better shape than we are?”

“That’s easy,” Sapphire said. “Location. Location is everything. For those of us in the Maze, pickings are pretty slim. The more wealthy districts where the pockets are bulging and the purses carry more than coppers are far away. The other three tribes, except for Avalanche, have been able to establish themselves around the more lucrative picking fields. Wildfire and Rockslide operate out of North Aramoor and Sandstorm out of the east.”

I started to open my mouth but Reevie beat me to it. “The reason no one has managed to set up a territory on the west side, which I’m sure is what you were about to ask, is because it’s too close to the palace. That district not only holds the largest patroller office in Aramoor, but the main branch of the Elondrian Lancer Corps. With our territories being predominantly in the Maze, we don’t exactly attract a lot of those political jobs we were just discussing.”

“Makes sense.”

“Also, we aren’t the only ones holding the short end of the stick,” Reevie said. “Avalanche is even worse off than we are.”

“You wouldn’t know it by the cut of Cutter’s jacket and breeches, not to mention that ridiculous hat.” I pulled out one of the chairs in front of Reevie’s desk, removed the books currently occupying it, and sat down.

“Cutter isn’t known for his generosity. He rules his tribe through fear. Whatever the tribe brings in he deems as his, and only disperses to the members what he believes they need in order to keep them working.”

“And I thought Spats was bad,” I said with a huff. “It’s a wonder anyone stays with him. Why don’t the kids just leave if he’s so terrible?”

Sapphire shared a look with Reevie. “Cutter has a way of making examples out of those who try. It instills fear in the rest.”

I sighed. “I know the type. The only thing they respect is someone bigger and meaner than they are.” I didn’t understand how Spats and Cutter ever came to be chieftains. Both were terrible leaders—though Cutter had Spats beat when it came to nastiness. “What does it take to become the head of a tribe? What makes them so privileged? I mean, Kore I could possibly see. The kid’s bigger than his own guard. I doubt anyone wanted to fight him for the position. And Noph seems to have a pretty good head on his shoulders. Cutter’s probably the meanest snake in his bunch, and Red, well, what can I say, she’s Red.” Sapphire shot a jealous look my way. “But how in the name of Aldor did someone like Spats get placed as chief?”

Reevie chuckled but did not sound at all amused. “It was passed on to him. Spats’s older brother, Kerson, was the head of the tribe before being offered a position in the Warrens. Before he left, he handed his title to Spats. No one dared challenge his decision seeing as how he was even bigger than Kore and twice as nasty.” Reevie shrugged. “Who are we to argue? The monarchy has been doing it for thousands of years. The crown is passed from father to son.”

“Or until someone kills the son,” I said.

Reevie and Sapphire both took a moment to ponder my statement.

“So, instead of appointing someone who can actually do the job, we end up with Weasel Face.”

“Shhh,” Sapphire scolded, turning to look at the door. “Keep it down. Someone might hear you.”

“It could have been worse,” Reevie said as he opened one of the scrolls and idly watched it roll back up when he let go. “We could have ended up with someone like Cutter.”

I shuddered at the thought.

No one said anything. I contemplated what it must be like for those living under Cutter’s thumb.

“When’s this fight supposed to take place?” Reevie asked. I looked at Sapphire. I needed to know how much time I had to train.

“There’s no telling.” She hopped down from the table. “Arrangements will have to be made, schedules readjusted, security set up. It’s very difficult—not to mention dangerous—to get all five tribes into the same building without massive casualties.”

“What do you mean all five tribes? I thought this was going to be a simple fight. You know, me versus this Flesh Eater person to determine who gets punished.”

Reevie stood from his seat behind his desk. “You don’t think the Guild is going to go through all the hassle of setting up a challenge for just a single fight, do you? Whenever the Pit is involved, it’s a big deal.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “What are we talking about, ten or fifteen from each tribe in attendance?”

Reevie and Sapphire looked at each other and started laughing.

I had my answer.

After a very long and grueling discussion with Spats, I managed to convince him to free me of my imprisonment within the walls of the Temple. He agreed to allow me to train away from the duties of my new station. He was surprisingly open to the idea once he realized it would be used to help me win in the Pit for Hurricane. I was even encouraged to take food and supplies from Spats’s own table.

Reevie and I ate very well over the next week. Spats made sure I had only the best. We had pork, wild turkey, smoked cheese, and not any of that hard stuff we were used to eating that tasted like it had been sitting in a dank cellar for too long. I was even afforded a bottle of spiced wine straight from Spats’s personal stock. I was more than a little jealous by the quality of food Spats ate while the rest of the tribe barely had enough to get by.

Things were looking up, if you didn’t count the fact that at any time I could be marching off to the Pit to face off against Flesh Eater. I focused on running through my exercises and conditioning my body. I pushed myself harder than I’d ever pushed before.

I even took some time to go see Master Fentin and Miss Orilla. They were both doing well. They had heard about the street skirmish, and when we didn’t come back by to visit, had grown concerned. But they were glad to hear that the two of us had made it through and were doing fine. Of course, I left out anything about how close we had come to dying during that battle or that I was being forced to have to fight for the honor of our tribe.

I was beginning to agree with Reevie. Maybe I was cursed. It seemed like my life was made up of nothing more than one fight after another.

I helped tidy up the shop for Master Fentin the best I could. The constant ache in his back and knees kept him from being able to clean like he used to. I wondered how much longer he and Miss Orilla would be able to keep it running. I was rewarded for my efforts with one of Miss Orilla’s famous mystery-meat sandwiches. It was a good day.

I left the book shop as the sun was beginning to set, and by the time I reached the Temple’s gates, it was well after dark. The torches had been lit and their light dotted the top of the wall, casting ugly shadows across the already ugly looking creatures engraved there. I could see a couple heads peering out over the gate.

“Password!” one of the kids shouted down from the top.

I rolled my eyes and wondered if it was too late to try joining another tribe.

“There is no chief as brave as Spats.

All other chiefs are dumb as rats.

If any wish to enter here;

Stick out your tongue and then draw near.”

I finished the childish quote by sticking out my tongue and walking toward the gate. Just like every other time, the watchers overhead started to giggle. Once I was within five paces, I could hear the heavy crossbar being lifted. The gates parted and I found myself facing an unexpected crowd.

They looked strangely anxious. Everyone was lined up on either side of the walkway leading from the gate to the main building. There was a wide enough space between for two people to pass through if they stood shoulder to shoulder. Some of the kids were holding torches.

I walked over to the front and got a look down the human corridor. There was a group of kids hobbling their way through the crowd.

“What’s going on?” I asked one of the watchers standing near the gate—Toots, I thought.

“They’s Avalanche rejects,” he said and then spit off to the side. “Trying to gain membership here in Hurricane. Like we’d ever let Avalanche rejects in here.”

Most had scars and cuts that looked to still be healing, but the wounds were red and infected. Half were limping, while the others struggled to keep them on their feet and moving.

Where was Reevie? I glanced down the row as far as the limited torch light would allow but didn’t see him.

There wasn’t a single one of these kids that looked like they’d had a decent meal in weeks. The dark circles under their eyes said they weren’t sleeping either.

“They was wounded in the recent battle,” Toots said. “And now they’s no longer considered fit for use. If you can’t perform your duties then you’s a burden on the tribe.”

“Surely we can find something for them to do here?”

“We can barely feed our own. You gonna give up your rations for ‘em? Besides, you think Spats is going to help the vermin who just tried to do him in?”

“I guess not.”

As the Avalanche rejects neared the entrance, I realized one of the bigger kids looked familiar. I knew him. He was the blonde kid with the club I had tripped with the crate. He was still limping from it.

In fact, I realized there were quite a few faces I recognized. Two were part of the group that had tried breaking through the Guard to get their hands on Spats. One of them was the kid I had used as a stepstool in order to leap over the others.

The tall blonde kid slowed as he neared me. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he lowered his head and kept moving. The look of humiliation, hunger, and desperation in his eyes was upsetting.

“What’s going to happen to them?” I asked.

“Who cares,” Toots said. “No one’s gonna take ‘em in. Probably just go off and die, or end up in the dungeons or salt mines.”

“Salt mines?”

Toots looked at me funny. “The salt mines is where they send prisoners to work off their sentence. They pack ‘em up and ship ‘em over to the Isle of Delga.”

I took a hard look at the faces of the Hurricane members as they watched the small parade of injured, starving kids pass. I saw no empathy, no remorse, no concern in any way, not even guilt. If there was a hint of emotion, it was revulsion. These castaway kids had become like the leper colonies on the Isle of the Forgotten. Once deemed unfit to work, or rejected from another tribe, it seemed their use to anyone else was permanently marred.

I watched the injured rejects pass through the gates and struggle up the stone path in the direction of the merchant shops. I followed Toots and the other watchers back to the gate. “Have you seen Reevie?”

“He left before supper. Said he wanted to make it home before dark.”

I decided to head back to the granary as well. “Mind if I borrow that?” I asked, pointing at the torch in Toots’s hand. “I’ve got a long walk. Don’t want to break my leg falling in a pothole. Spats might be a bit upset if his prize fighter was injured before he ever stepped into the ring.” I smiled.

Toots started to laugh. “You’s got a point there,” he said and then handed me his torch. “I don’t envy you none going to the Pit, but I don’t mind tellin’ ya I’m right excited about the prospect. I heard this Flesh Eater is quite the beast.” He cast a wary glance at those still mingling around the gate before taking a step closer and leaning in. “I wouldn’t go spreadin’ this around, but I put half my earnings this month down for you to win.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder with a reaffirming squeeze. “You’re probably the only one.”

Toots’s smile seemed to slide a little. He told me I’d better watch my step on the way home. I doubted it was my safety he was really concerned about.

I could hear the gates shut behind me. The heavy thud of the crossbeam echoed into the night. Once I reached the end of the stone path leading from the Temple back to the main road, I extinguished my torch and melted into the shadows ahead. I didn’t want anyone on the gate to be able to see which direction I was heading. Besides, there was something I needed to do before going home, something I was sure would land me a nice scolding from Reevie.

“What the flaming bunions are you bringing them here for?”

Reevie stood in the granary’s doorway with his nightshirt hanging clear down to his ankles, not the most intimidating presence I’d ever seen. In his hand, he threatened the small group of outcasts with the cudgel he normally kept stashed under his pillow.

“They need help, Reevie.”

“What they need is to get back on the road and keep walking until they reach the bay.” He waved his night stick in a circle over his head. “And then keep going.”

I stood there in silence for a moment, completely taken back by his response. “What sort of thing is that for a healer to say? Just look at them,” I said, lowering my voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “They’d be lucky to make it to the street corner without keeling over.” Three or four of the kids were sitting on the ground unable to stand on their own, and those that had been carrying them were too exhausted to move.

“Can I see you inside a moment?” Reevie asked as he motioned with his head for me to follow. He kept a close eye on the rejects, making sure they didn’t try anything. Once inside the warehouse, Reevie turned and pointed his stick at me. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you know who they are? Avalanche’s rejects. I bet even Hurricane wouldn’t be willing to take them in. No one wants Cutter’s rejects. He makes life difficult for anyone who tries to help those he considers too unfit to survive. How’d you end up with them in the first place?”

“I stopped by the Temple looking for you and when I got there, they were . . . well, being kicked out.”

“There! You see?” Reevie said, bringing his cudgel up once more. “Hurricane won’t even take them, and they have the most lax policy of all the tribes when it comes to accepting members.”

“They’ve got nowhere else to go,” I said, hoping to find some way to reach Reevie’s normally compassionate nature. I had thought one look at the sad state of these kids and the healer in him would have taken over.

“What’s that got to do with us?”

I sighed and shook my head. Something about this situation brought back memories of my own banishment. In a way, I was just as much an outcast as these injured kids. “It should have everything to do with us. What happened to that boy with the gimp leg who decided to help a poor wounded kid lying in the middle of the street, the boy who took me in, dressed my wounds, fed me, and spent countless hours nursing me back to health? Where’s that boy? ‘Cause from what I can remember, he didn’t know me from a piece of loose cobble.”

Reevie lowered his stick and let it bump against the side of his leg. “That was different.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, for starters, you weren’t a former member of Avalanche.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that.”

“One look at you and anyone would have known that,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, there was only one of you. There’s nearly two dozen of them out there.”

“It’s not like we don’t have the room,” I said with a quick gesture to the empty building. I could see he was starting to crumble. “You’re a healer, for pity’s sake. Don’t you have some healer code about helping those in need?”

Reevie chewed on his lower lip.

“Look, it will only be for a couple of days, and who knows, they might be of some use.”

Reevie raised a single brow and gave me a hard glare. “They’re rejects, Ayrion. Worse, they’re injured rejects. What sort of value could they possibly have?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll think of something. Every life is worth something.”

“That’s ironic, coming from a would-be assassin.”

I ignored his jab, true or not. “The problem with the other tribes is that they place their value on the needs of the whole and not the individual. It seems to me that any society that holds this type of a mindset is doomed to eventually follow the path of only the strong surviving. If there’s a weak link, it’s severed. If the actions of a single member are seen as being contrary to the rest then that member is swiftly shown the error of their ways. I should know. That’s the way of the Upaka.

“That’s the real reason why I was banished. It wasn’t so much that I had killed the Primary’s son, anyone who witnessed the fight could see it had been an accident, but what they really couldn’t abide was that I was different from everyone else. I didn’t fit the mold. It was the excuse they needed to get rid of someone who stuck out. When you’re raised from birth to believe in the unit, it’s hard to see the value of the individual.

“Just look at these kids,” I said, pointing back to the open door. “They’re wounded in battle, but instead of being cared for and treated with respect for their service, they’re thrown into the streets like soiled rags.

“I don’t want to live like that. I’ve seen firsthand what it does. Everyone is worth something. Everyone should be given a chance to make something of themselves.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t think of anyone more capable of taking what other people deem worthless and turning it into something worthwhile. Just look at me.”

Reevie fiddled with his cudgel. “I suppose we could put them in some of the empty rooms in back. But only for a couple of days, mind you. We aren’t running some charity house here. I don’t want to see you bringing home strays for me to take care of every time I turn around. The point of being over here on this side of the Maze was to get away from the tribes, not so we could start our own.”

My head lifted. “Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why not start our own tribe? I’m sure there are plenty of other rejects looking for a home. We could bring them here.”

Reevie stared at me in dumb silence, no doubt trying to think of an appropriate curse. “Have you gone completely brain mad?” His cudgel was back in the air and swinging wildly. “Just the very thought of starting our own tribe would bring the other tribes down on us faster than you could say Ayrion the idiot.”

“They wouldn’t have to know. We could keep it a secret.”

Reevie started to laugh. “And how long do you think that will last? In order to survive, we need food and clothing, medicines, bedding, warm blankets for winter, lanterns, not to mention weapons for defense. Where do you suppose we’re going to get these things? A benevolent faerie? Just as soon as they head into town to start picking, you don’t think the other tribes are going to take notice?”

“Not if they go where the other tribes won’t.”

Reevie’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not! You can get that notion right out of your head this instant. There’s a reason there are no tribes in the west quarter. Every time they’ve tried, they’ve failed, and usually with the vast majority of their members being hauled off to the dungeons or the salt mines. I don’t plan on rotting away in a dungeon cell because you got some romantic idea of playing the protector to a bunch of rejects. You’re going to have to learn you can’t save everyone.” Reevie turned and headed for the front door. “Come on, let’s get them inside and looked at. You’ve already got me up out of my bed, might as well be doing something useful.”

I decided not to push the matter further, at least for the moment. I needed more time to consider the ideas that were now racing through my mind. The very thought of taking the other tribe’s castoffs and using them in a way that proved that every life is worth something was a challenge I found exciting.

Over the next couple of days, Reevie and I stayed around the granary as much as possible as he treated the rejects. He had me make a few runs into the Temple to get supplies from the stash in his office. I didn’t complain since it gave me a chance to spend more time with Sapphire. I also made sure to report to Spats on the condition of my training. Mostly, he just wanted reassurances that I was going to beat Flesh Eater. He needed someone to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Even with the influx of injured rejects, Reevie still made sure to check in on his Hurricane patients as well. Their injuries were healing nicely, having been treated much sooner than those at the granary. Even the worst of Hurricane’s injured, those unable to wield a weapon again, were almost well enough to join the ranks of the watchers or the cleaners. So far, to Hurricane’s credit, they hadn’t turned out any of their fallen comrades. However, I didn’t believe for a moment that Spats would have thought twice about evicting the wounded if he deemed them of no further use.

The Guild had yet to set a date for the fight. According to Sapphire, there were already significant wagers being dealt between the tribes. No one bet on who would win or lose, but on how long I would last before Flesh Eater devoured me. Some were even betting which parts he’d chew on first; others, what parts he’d leave behind. So naturally I took what was left of the money Spats had given me in order to purchase supplies for my training and placed a wager on myself to win. The boy handling the bets actually laughed. Looking at the odds, if I did manage to beat Flesh Eater, I’d have enough coin from my winnings to keep the granary stocked for some time, long enough for those living there to get back on their feet. And if the worst happened and I lost, then I figured I wouldn’t be around long enough to worry about it.

“Ayrion.” Sapphire’s voice pulled me from my musings and I lifted my head to see her walking toward me.

She skirted Egla’s fountain and made her way toward the large white oak where I was sitting. I still couldn’t get over the life-sized image of the naked faerie. One of these days, I was going to find her a warm coat to wear.

Sapphire stopped in front of me, blocking the afternoon sun. I had just taken the first bite of my apple when she finally said something.

“Spats wants to see you.”

I moved the piece of chewed apple around to one cheek in order to respond. “What for?”

“I didn’t ask. But I bet it has something to do with the head of Sandstorm arriving while you were helping Reevie with the wounded.”

“Noph is here? I didn’t know tribal heads made house calls.”

“They don’t. At least not usually. Must be important.”

“Then I wonder why they want to see me?”

She thought for a moment and then smiled. “‘Cause they just can’t get enough of those grey eyes.”

I grunted as I stood.

“So how’s it going with the new house guests?” she asked as we slowly made our way back to the main building. “Reevie told me you’ve gotten in the habit of bringing home strays.”

I gave her a befuddled look.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I think it’s great. No one’s ever been brave enough to do anything about them before.”

I colored at the compliment, but quickly regained my composure and filled her in on what Reevie and I had been up to.

We passed Reevie as he exited the dining hall and I tossed him my half-eaten piece of fruit. “Noph just arrived, and Spats is demanding to see me.” I gave him my most sarcastic smile.

Reevie threw his hands in the air, accidently launching my apple. “Oh, great! What’ve you gone and done this time? Cursed, Ayrion,” he hollered at me as I followed Sapphire up the steps. “You hear me? Cursed!”

There were four guards outside Spats’ door, two of ours and two from Sandstorm. The two from Sandstorm wore purple sashes around their waists—Sandstorm colors. I wished I had taken the time to stop by Reevie’s room and grab my black vest.

Forehead, one of Spats’s guards, best known for his ferocious head-butting technique, not to mention the large permanent knot that had grown there because of it, knocked on the door when he saw us coming. Spats’s high-pitched voice answered.

Forehead opened the door and I followed Sapphire inside. The door clicked shut behind us, but the guards, instead of joining us as they normally did, remained in the corridor. Spats was sitting in a large high-back chair off to the right, and Noph was reclining comfortably on the small sofa in front of him. The same two guards who had accompanied Noph during our meeting at the Guild Hall were standing like sentinels on either side of the sofa. They reminded me of the bronze statues I’d seen in the park at King’s Square—silent and unmoving.

“Ah, and there’s our little scrapper now,” Noph said as he leaned forward in his seat and placed his weight on his silver tipped cane. He wore another richly clad waistcoat. It was shorter than the one I had seen him in before, and even though the cut of this one was different, it still bore the same deep purple hue. His pants matched his coat in design and his hat curled slightly on the sides with a black leather band around the small top-bowl, complete with a purple plume. If the scholars were to ever be in need of a replacement for “fop,” I would have suggested Noph.

“You wished to see me?” I asked with a slight bow to Spats, a mere show of courtesy since Noph was present. Spats had dusted off his faded blue vest for the occasion. He did, however, forgo the silk cravat, which I thought was a wise choice. It made him look like a complete buffoon instead of merely the half-wit that he was.

“Yes,” Spats said. “We were just discussing your upcoming competition and the odds of your survival. I was telling our good friends over at Sandstorm that you stood an excellent chance.” Spats tried to maintain a straight face but his tone made it perfectly clear that he didn’t believe I would be leaving the Pit in one piece. More like in several chewed-on pieces.

Noph, on the other hand, remained silent as he seemed to be studying me. He might have dressed like a dandy, but I believed my earlier assessment of him was correct. He was smarter than he let on. He appeared to be one of the oldest of the chiefs, at least eighteen. His mind, however, worked as though he were much older. “Yes, there is quite the talk floating around about the upcoming event,” he said. “Not much in your favor, I’m afraid.”

I offered a polite smile.

“But the Pit is the least of our worries at the moment.” The Sandstorm chief lifted his black cane and let the silver butt hit the woven rug at his feet with a thud. “I’ve been watching you,” he said as he lifted his cane once more and let it drop. “I notice your lips hardly ever move, but your eyes . . . apart from being the most disturbing—and intriguing—I’ve ever seen, seem to say quite a bit. For instance, they tell me you have a keen perception of your surroundings.

“I watched as you entered the room. You took notice of who was here, where they were positioned, and what weapons they carried. You found the nearest exits, and right now you’re judging whether the hollow sound of my cane is being generated solely from the rug, or if there is something hidden inside.” Noph smiled dropped his cane again. “How am I doing?”

“Actually, I was determining which of your guards I would take down first in order to get to you.”

“Ayrion!” Spats hopped to his feet, looking mortified, but I could tell that my straightforwardness was exactly what Noph was looking for.

Noph leaned back and laughed. “Sit down, Spats, before you give yourself a palpitation.” Noph continued studying me. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was being weighed for a different purpose altogether. Noph was clearly a tactician. He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t have something specific in mind. I bet he was a tough person to beat in a game of batmyth. “I’m here because we seem to have a common problem.” Noph adjusted the buttons on his waistcoat, then reclined and stretched his arm over the back of the sofa. “I wonder, Ayrion, if you could tell me what that problem would be?”

“Cutter.”

Noph smiled. “And that is why I requested you be here for this meeting. Please—” Noph gestured to a couple of chairs in front of the two of them. “—take a seat.”

I glanced at Spats so as not to make him feel like he’d lost authority in his own house. Spats nodded and I walked over and took one of the two empty chairs.

“You too, Miss Sapphire,” Noph said.

Spats nodded again and Sapphire took her seat next to mine.

“I wanted to start by saying I have no doubt that what you said during the Guild assembly was correct and that Cutter sent his thugs in to raid your warehouse specifically to draw you out. That is how he thinks. He craves power and isn’t afraid to take risks to get it. Like Hurricane, Sandstorm borders the Avalanche territories, and with each passing month, his tribe pushes further into our region. I believe he’s testing the waters, wanting to see how far he can go before we push back.

“Unfortunately for you, he anticipated your attack, or better yet, orchestrated it.”

“He just got lucky,” Spats said, refusing to admit his own incompetence. Noph didn’t argue. Everyone knew, including Spats, that it was his own fault. The fool had led his tribe into a battle with nothing more than the promise to “cut the enemy’s feet.” What did he think was going to happen?

“You’re not the only tribe that Cutter has been testing. Just last month, we caught a small party from Avalanche near our compound. We stopped them about three streets over. Their excuse was they’d gotten lost. But, with a little well-placed persuasion, they admitted they had been ordered to see how close they could get before being discovered. They proceeded to beg us not to send them back. They said Cutter had sent them out after deeming them no longer useful. The fresh stripes on their backs seemed to testify to the fact. But the last thing we had room for was Avalanche’s rejects.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I said, leaning forward in my seat, “if Cutter is such a tyrant, then why does his tribe continue to grow? I’d think his members would be leaving in mass.”

Noph tapped the end of his cane with a shiny black shoe. “Those that are already there are too afraid to leave, and those that continue to join do so because they are the type of people looking for power. And Cutter’s promise of making them all rich is a strong incentive for their decision to join Avalanche. You might be surprised how far a charismatic speech can go to sway desperate people. Anxious ears will generally hear only what they want. Doesn’t matter how ridiculous the lie, as long as it’s presented in such a way that it aligns with their desires, they’ll blindly follow it all the way to their own destruction.”

I liked the way this kid thought. If there was ever any doubt before, it was gone now. Noph had a good head on his silk-covered shoulders.

“What I don’t want to see happen,” he said, “is Cutter using the Pit to bolster the image of his tribe by adding another victory under his belt—”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Spats interjected, “‘cause Ayrion’s going to win.” He shifted in his seat to look at me. “Isn’t that right?” he asked, not giving me a chance to answer. “He’s been training every day.”

“That’s good to hear,” Noph said. “You might be Upakan, but the Pit isn’t for the faint of heart, especially when facing something like Flesh Eater.”

I noticed he had said something and not someone. “What’s to stop Cutter from carrying out an attack at the Pit? If his lust for power is as strong as you say, then if I were him, what better opportunity to do so than when everyone is assembled in one place at the same time.”

“You make a good point,” Noph said, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s the reason all members are required to disarm before entering.”

“All but the chief’s immediate guard, of course,” Spats added.

“There is the occasional brawl that breaks out when one tribe’s champion beats another,” Sapphire said, “but without weapons, it doesn’t get far, and is usually snuffed out by the rest of the tribes. The last thing anyone wants is an open bloodbath.”

“Or maybe that’s exactly what Cutter wants,” I said.

“I don’t believe he would take it that far,” Noph said. “He’s a greedy son of a faerie, but he’s not stupid. If he were to incite something now, he’d only be ensuring a quick alliance between the other tribes. And Avalanche, although growing, is nowhere near large enough to withstand that.” Noph leaned back in his seat. “No, no, I don’t foresee anything quite so dramatic as an all-out attack. Cutter’s goal will be to win the Pit, and in doing so, he’ll not only wiggle out of any repercussion for his unlawful raid, but in turn, he’ll pass that punishment on to you and your tribe for your aggression against him, all while building his own reputation and the reputation of Avalanche as a tribe worth joining.”

“I see your point,” Spats said with a worried frown.

Noph leaned forward and offered me a sly grin. “My question is what did you do to Red to get her so riled up? I get the feeling it’s personal somehow.”

I didn’t have to look to know that Sapphire’s eyes were blazing. Any mention of me and Red in the same sentence tended to set her off. “I defended myself against her goons on my first day in Aramoor. They decided they wanted what was in my pack and I decided they couldn’t have it.”

Noph impatiently tapped his cane with his fingertips. “And . . .”

“And let’s just say she lost a large portion of her guard and a few of her beaters before they managed to get it from me.”

Noph leaned back in his seat. “Yep, that would do it.” He smiled. “Red doesn’t like to lose.”

“Neither does Cutter,” Spats mumbled from his seat.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. I only had one choice. I had to win the Pit.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of Reevie rummaging around his collection of herbs and tonics at the far corner of our chambers under the granary.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner,” I said, fighting back a deep yawn.

“Sorry.” Reevie cast a quick glance over his shoulder before shuffling through some more half-empty jars, “I was trying to keep the noise down. You need all the rest you can get what with your upcoming . . .” He didn’t finish. “Anyway, those rejects up there are having a hard go of it. Infection has set in. They should have been treated a week ago. With my supply of medicinal herbs running as low as it is, we might not be able to save them all. We used most of my stockpile on our own wounded. I’m going to need to get some more.”

“Where?”

“Master Fentin has a small reserve at his shop that I’ve squirreled away. Any chance you’d be going that way?”

“I can if you need them. I guess it won’t hurt for me to take one morning off from my training.” I crawled out of bed and stretched my arms as far as they would go, which triggered another extensive yawn. It did feel good getting a little extra sleep.

After a quick breakfast of bread, cheese, and some sliced fruit, which I washed down with some watered-down ale, I headed up to the main floor to see to our guests. They were all awake. Some were moving around, tending to the more injured while waiting on Reevie to make an appearance. Bull, the leader of the small group, who also happened to be the large blonde boy I had knocked unconscious during our battle with Avalanche, was busy moving from one cot to the next, making sure everyone was drinking enough water. He stopped as soon as we entered the room.

“Rat isn’t looking too good,” Bull said as he walked over to greet us. “Neither is Petal. She won’t drink anything. Says her tummy hurts.”

“I’ll take a look.” Reevie hefted his healer bag and made his way through the crude sleeping quarters, careful not to step on anyone as he crossed from one side of the room to the other. Most of the outcasts were still bedridden. Reevie had told them they were going to need plenty of rest if they wanted to get better. No one seemed to complain.

It had taken a while, but with Bull’s help, we had managed to round up enough mattresses from one of the abandoned inns across the street to give most everyone their own bed. Some of the smaller kids slept two and three to a mattress. As sick as they were, Reevie didn’t like the idea of his patients sleeping on damp floors.

“Why are you helping us?” Bull asked. He stood beside me in the doorway, watching Reevie work.

I thought it a silly question. “Because you needed it.”

I continued to watch the little healer move from one bed to the next. Every now and then, he’d grunt and open his satchel and pull out a small bottle of this or a pouch of that, applying the medication where it was needed. Beside me, Bull remained silent, but his silence was getting louder by the moment.

“But . . . we tried to hurt you,” he finally said.

“Then why did you agree to come here?”

Bull leaned against the edge of the door frame as he weighed my question. “Because . . .” He paused to think some more. “Because you offered.”

“But I hurt you. I injured your leg and left you unconscious.”

There was another extended moment of silence. “I guess, because I didn’t see we had any other choice,” he finally admitted.

I turned to look at him. “And neither did I. The way I see it, we have a duty to help those others less fortunate.”

Bull raised his brow and grunted. “Don’t know many of those.”

“Those?”

He smiled. “People less fortunate than us.”

I laughed. “You have a point there.” I turned my attention back to the injured. “This city would be a much better place if people spent their time helping each other instead of exploiting one another.”

Bull snorted. “That’s not going to happen.”

I smiled. “Maybe not, but can you imagine what we could accomplish if it were true?”

There was another long moment of silence. I figured he’d had enough philosophy for one day. Maybe he hoped if he didn’t answer, I’d shut up.

“If there were such a tribe,” Bull said finally, pushing a tuft of dirty blonde hair back from his eyes, “I’d be proud to join.”

I turned and looked at him, almost surprised by his words. If there were such a tribe, I’d be proud to join. His statement only confirmed everything I’d already been considering. My mind raced with possibilities, but I stamped them down. I couldn’t let myself get swept up in daydreams. There were more pressing things that needed my attention at the moment. “Yes,” I said, turning my attention back to the room of injured rejects, “if only there were such a tribe.”

Reevie finished with his initial walk-through. After spending the last week or so helping him with the Temple’s wounded, I knew his typical routine by heart. He would assess the patient’s overall condition, determine the next step of treatment, and then work out how to make his dwindling resources most effective.

“I’m going to need you to get those extra supplies after all,” Reevie said, walking over to join us at the door. “Rat requires more goldenseal, Petal and Squeaks need cranberry leaf oil, and I’m nearly out of both.”

I nodded. “I’ll take Bull with me and introduce him to Master Fentin in case you ever need him to get something and I’m not around.”

Reevie pursed his lips and glanced at Bull. I could tell he wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of giving away his secret hiding spot, but we didn’t have much choice given the circumstances. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid like jump in front of a runaway carriage.”

“Stupid? Me?” I offered Reevie a wide grin.

He shuddered and then walked back to his patients.

I glanced at Bull. “Have you had any breakfast?”

“We had the rest of the porridge you gave us last night.”

I nodded. “Good. It’s quite the walk.”

We left the makeshift sleeping quarters and headed across the open floor of the granary. The sun was just beginning to peek between a pair of tall buildings in front of us as we stepped outside. The harbor bells tolled the hour. My stomach grumbled. It was clearly looking forward to the possibility of one of Miss Orilla’s sandwiches.

We made good time by avoiding the Maze. Instead, we headed west on Mora and then north along Bay Street. I took every chance I could to catch a glimpse of the bay. I never got tired of staring out at the blue horizon of seemingly endless water, something I never would have been able to imagine as a small boy living in an underground city.

Bull had difficulty keeping up thanks to his injured leg, but he never complained. I kept the pace slow, something I was used to doing while following Reevie around the city.

“What can you tell me about Flesh Eater?” I asked. I figured if there was anyone who would be able to give me a straight answer, it would be someone from Avalanche, someone who actually lived with this potentially cannibalistic warrior. I wondered if he was as bad as everyone said. I needed to find a weakness, something I could exploit.

Bull thumbed his chin. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

I cast a sidelong look his way. “You lived with the kid. How do you not know anything about him? There’s got to be something you can tell me. How big is he? Does he favor his right or left side? How does he fight?” I took a small gulp and hoped Bull didn’t notice. “Does he really eat people?”

“I’ve only seen him fight twice, and I didn’t really get a chance to see what type of fighting he prefers, or if he favors a side.”

“Why not?” I was starting to get frustrated by the lack of information from someone who lived under the same roof as this monster.

“The fights didn’t last long enough. As soon as Flesh Eater gets his hands on them, the fight is over.”

My heart sank. Not only was Bull’s information unhelpful, but I was starting to really fear my opponent from what little he’d told me.

“I’m not sure if he actually eats people, but I have definitely seen him chomp down on more than one of his opponents. Whatever you do, don’t get anywhere near his mouth.”

That was advice I hoped I wouldn’t have trouble following. “At least tell me what he looks like.”

“I can’t tell you much except he’s big.” Bull waved his hand high over his head. “Really big.”

I let out a sigh of exasperation. “Was this boy in your tribe or not?”

“He was, but he was never allowed out.”

We stopped at one of the main streets leading into the Merchant District and waited for a couple of carriages to pass. “What do you mean not allowed out? Out of what? The compound?”

“No. Out of his cage.”

“His cage?” If I wasn’t worried before, I was now. After glancing both ways to make sure we weren’t going to get run over by some reckless aristocrat, we followed the crowd across the street.

“Yeah, Cutter keeps him locked in a cage in one of the buildings out back. Whenever he’s in public, he wears a mask that covers his whole head.” Bull pursed his lips. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen his face.”

I decided to drop the topic altogether. I doubted I was going to get anything more helpful out of Bull, and I didn’t see any point in spending another moment thinking about my strange masked opponent.

“I’d forgotten how nice it was over here,” Bull said as we headed into the lower Merchant District. We followed the flow of the Tanisian River northeast, slowly dodging and weaving the current of people as they passed from one shop to the next. “It’s been at least five years since I’ve been over here. Cutter doesn’t let us get out except to work. Only certain members were allowed to move about the city, and that was only with his direct permission. We were assigned routes that we worked with half a dozen other pickers. If the pickings are good, everything’s fine. But when the pickings are down, which they usually are a couple months of the year, things aren’t so good.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about what ‘not so good’ meant.

“I was assigned the wheat and barley quarters.” Bull rolled his eyes and grunted. “That’s all well and good during the harvest seasons, but what were we supposed to do during the rest? The only thing we could do was try picking outside of our area. We didn’t have a choice. There’s nothing worse than making Cutter mad, and measly pickings was about the fastest way to do that.”

“It sounds to me like Cutter did you a favor by kicking you out.” I tried to sound upbeat.

Bull grunted. “At the time, we didn’t think so.” He limped off the walkway and over to a knee-high stone wall that ran along the front of the river. He winced as he sat down. “Getting labeled as a reject, especially an Avalanche reject, is pretty much a death sentence.” He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders.

I did the same. The strong smell coming from the tannery across the way overpowered everything else, causing me to wrinkle my nose.

“I liked what you said about us all being important; that we’re all worth more than just what we can contribute to our tribe.” Bull took a moment to stare at the throngs of people rushing by, coming and going, no one really stopping to notice each other. “Your granary’s like a sanctuary. I’m sure if you looked hard enough, you’d find there’s a lot more like us all across Aramoor, street rats looking for a place to belong.”

“Whoa, let’s not get carried away,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “If I were to go gathering up any more lost strays, Reevie would probably throw me out.”

Bull offered a half-smile. I could tell that whatever ideas he had dancing around in his head were far from squashed. He was still deep in thought when we finally left our perch and moved on. We made it to the book shop by the time the sun had reached its pinnacle. Master Fentin was helping a couple of customers at the front when we stepped inside. As soon as he spotted me, he waved us on to the back. “I’ll be with you in just a moment,” he said with a bright smile.

Bull began to wander around the back part of the shop, scanning each row as he went. “I’ve never seen so many books. I wonder what they’re all about.”

“A great many things, my young friend,” Master Fentin said as he poked his head around the aisle.

“Makes me wish I knew how to read.” He ran his finger across the gold-embossed titling on a thick volume about three rows up. “What does this one talk about?”

Master Fentin hobbled over with his cane and adjusted the spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “Ah, that book discusses the various temperatures used for tempering iron-based alloys, and the effect it has on durability. It also tells how to determine a metal’s processing temperature—steel, for instance, can be identified by its color.”

Bull whistled and looked back at the book.

“Yes, well.” Master Fentin cleared his throat. “I suppose you didn’t come all this way to discuss metallurgy.” He stood there a moment studying Bull before turning to me. “Would you mind introducing me to your large friend?”

“Oh, sorry, Master Fentin. I don’t know where my manners have run off to.” I was still pondering the idea of all those rejects wandering the streets of Aramoor and had only been half-listening. “Master Fentin, this is Bull, gatherer and protector of street rejects. Bull, this is Master Fentin, collector of rare books and purveyor of even rarer stories.”

Master Fentin performed a sweeping bow, at least as far as his back would allow. “Ah, Master . . . Bull. Indeed a strong name. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Bull turned a tad red in the cheeks at all the show, and attempted a bow himself. It was a bit clumsy, but we got the point. Just then, the bell over the front door rang out as an older gentleman and what looked to be his grandson stepped into the shop.

“Be right with you,” Master Fentin called out. The gentleman smiled and went about his perusing.

“Reevie sent us to get his herb stash. We have a number of injured kids we’re treating at the granary.”

“Ah, well, they’d be upstairs. Just go on in. The missus is just doing a spot of cleaning at the moment. Tell her what you’re looking for and she’ll get it for you. And tell her that I said to make sure you didn’t leave without something to eat. It’s a long walk back.”

My eyes widened. I could feel the saliva building at the corner of my mouth. “Yes, sir, thank you.”

It didn’t take Ms. Orilla long to gather up the supplies, nor for us to gobble down a couple of her famous mystery-meat sandwiches. I thanked her with a firm hug and a small peck on the cheek, while Bull offered another one of his awkward bows.

Master Fentin was busy with some more customers, so we merely waved our good-byes before heading on our way. By the time we made it back to the granary, the sun was just reaching the top of the Sandrethin Mountains, leaving the sky a very beautiful shade of purple, pink, and peach.

Reevie was sitting outside the front door when we arrived.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

“Sorry. You know how Ms. Orilla is, wouldn’t let us leave without making us a plate of something to eat.” I handed Reevie the satchel of herbs and we headed back inside.

“A pigeon just flew in not an hour ago,” he said. Reevie glanced my way and I could see it in his eyes. “They’ve set a date.”

Three days.

The tiny rolled-up note the pigeon had brought said that the Guild had finally set a date. I had exactly three days before the tribes were to assemble for a night of violent diversion. Three days would have normally seemed like a long time, but knowing what awaited me in the Pit, three weeks wouldn’t have been long enough.

I continued running through my routines and exercises while Reevie continued to nurse the injured kids back to health. My audience grew. Reevie believed it was a great motivator for many of them to leave their beds and start walking around. I pushed them from my thoughts and focused on my training. Up and down the ropes I went, building the strength in my arms and stomach. Over, under, around, and through the various obstacles of my course I plunged—spinning, punching, kicking, rolling. I pushed myself further than I’d gone before.  I was in the best shape I’d been in since leaving the Lost City.

I didn’t train with weapons, since I was told that the match was to be openhand. That news not only put a damper on my spirit, but forced me to rethink my entire strategy as well. I had been counting on the advantage I would have with a weapon. At the very least, it would have helped me keep Flesh Eater at a distance. Now, I was being forced to meet this barbarian with nothing between us but the clothes on our backs. Taking Bull’s advice to stay away from his mouth was going to be more of a challenge.

Each night after a hot soak in the tub, Reevie would rub me down with liniment and the soreness in my muscles would vanish. By morning, I was ready to go again. The night before the big fight, Reevie was uncharacteristically quiet as he poured the lotion in his hands and began to massage my shoulders, arms, and back.

Normally, Reevie had plenty to say. There was never a shortage of reprimands to dish out about things I’d done, things I hadn’t done, things he was sure I was going to do in order to land us in “another fine mess” as he would put it. I think it made him feel needed. As many times as I had told him that his crippled leg made no difference to me, he still overcompensated for it. I wished I could convince him that I wasn’t going to just leave him behind one day and move on to bigger and better things.

“I’m worried too,” I said between groans as Reevie’s fingers found new clusters of sore muscle to press down on. I could feel his hands quivering as he applied the cool balm. Hearing what I thought was a sniff, I turned around. “What’s wrong?”

Reevie tried to wipe his tears before I saw them. “Nothing,” he said with another hasty sniff. He grabbed the sides of my head and forced me back around.

“I’m going to be okay,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know.”

“Who’s worried?” Reevie pinched the back of my neck a little harder than normal and I winced. “Now hold still, you lazy lump of lard, or I’ll never get this done.”

There was another moment of silence.

“You can beat him though, can’t you?” His words sounded unsure.

“Of course. I’m Upakan, after all. It’ll take more than some big ugly cannibal to stop me.”

Reevie’s hands paused in their work. “What if you can’t, though? What if you make a mistake? What if Flesh Eater—”

I turned to look him in the eyes. They were red. “Don’t worry, he won’t. I’m coming back, if for no other reason than to make sure you have enough grief in your life. I would hate to deprive you of your favorite reason to complain.” I attempted a weak grin.

I half-expected a witty comeback, but instead he let his hands fall to his lap, face serious. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

What could I possibly say to something like that? I sat up, grabbed my shirt, and slid it over my head. I had never been someone who felt comfortable with letting others see my emotions, but this little crippled healer was about to rip the tears right out of my eyes. I was Upakan. We didn’t cry. Crying was for the weak. We were bred to be fearless in the face of danger. Unfortunately, we were never taught what to do in the face of someone admitting how much they cared about you. That was a battle I was clearly unequipped for.

If I were honest myself, I’d have to admit that Reevie was the first real friend I’d ever had. But how was I going to tell him that without saying something stupid? I wasn’t very good at this stuff. Maybe that was why I didn’t have many friends. Give me a mission and let me go. Give me a need for justice and I can present a moving speech. I’m also a fair wit and could supply sarcasm in spades, but ask me to share my feelings and I turn into a bumbling fool.

Reevie’s eyes were moistening as he sat there waiting for a response that hadn’t come. I had to say something, so I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, hoping that what came out would be the right thing. “I was always taught that having relationships was dangerous. Relationships can hinder an Upaka’s ability to do their job. Not only can they make us second guess our choices, they can also be used against us.”

Reevie cocked his head. He didn’t look like he understood what I was trying to say, so I tried to put it another way. “Upakans are mercenaries. We’re fighters. The goal of our training is to turn us into killers for hire. What do you think would happen if an enemy were to discover I had someone I cared about? That person could be used to stop me from accomplishing my mission. Because of this, we were always told never to let anyone get close.

“The thing is, ever since leaving the Lost City over half a year ago and making my way across Aldor, I have come to know a great many people who have helped me realize that having those we care about isn’t just a sign of weakness. I’ve stayed in communities that wouldn’t have survived without those relationships to get them through the tough times, neighbors helping neighbors instead of shunning them.

“Even though there are advantages to not letting other people get close, I think that I would rather face the unexpected twists of life with someone by my side than to go through life completely alone.”

“So, are you saying that you consider me your friend?” Reevie asked.

I scratched my head. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Not really. What I heard was that you used to think relationships were bad, and now you think they’re good, but I don’t think my name was mentioned anywhere in that very long, very vague bit of rambling.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Reevie, you’re my friend.”

“Your bestest friend?” he added with a smile.

His attitude was infectious. “My bestest friend.”

Sleep that night was slow in coming, and when it did, I was plagued with dreams.

Red and Sapphire bound me with my climbing rope while Spats stood off to the side with a butcher knife, ordering them to “cut my feet.” Master Fentin and Miss Orilla were there as well, but instead of offering me one of their delicious sandwiches, they tried stuffing me inside two large pieces of dark rye. I couldn’t figure out where they had found an oven large enough to bake a loaf that size. Cutter stood behind the others, waving his large brimmed hat over his head; the top half of it was ablaze. He kept demanding to know why I’d set it on fire.

The ground started to shake and Spats fell to his knees and cried out in his high-pitched voice for Flesh Eater to take me as a sacrifice. A giant figure that looked closer to a mountain troll than a human stepped out of the darkness. Its head was covered, except for a single hole at the mouth. Fangs, like the enormous stalactites found in the lower regions of the Lost City, jutted from the mask’s opening.

I begged Sapphire to let me go, but all she said was Egla the Beautiful desired my life in payment for her freedom. I couldn’t figure out what sort of freedom Egla desired since she was nothing more than a naked statue standing in the middle of an empty fountain.

The giant reached down and grabbed the enormous pieces of bread with me in the middle and lifted me into the air. There was no mystery to this meat. My stomach reeled from the upward rush. I screamed at myself to break free. I was Upakan. We don’t give up. We fight to the end. And we certainly aren’t eaten by giants, masked or otherwise.

I could feel the creature’s hot breath as he lifted the sandwich up to the hole in the leather mask and spread his jaws. The smell of his breath was enough to make me wish I was already dead. I could hear Reevie’s voice screaming out below me. “He’s my friend! You can’t eat my friend! He’s the only one I’ve got!”

My bottom half went in first. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. I could hear the giant’s garbled laugh as he bit down.

I flung myself out of bed, dragging my blanket to the floor with me as I fought to catch my breath. My heart was pounding in my chest. I must have cried out because Reevie nearly fell out of his bed grabbing for the bludgeon under his pillow. He hopped off his mattress and took a swing at the air.

“What’s going on? Who’s attacking?”

I was careful to respond in case he decided to try swinging his piece of wood in my direction. “No one’s attacking,” I said, taking another deep breath as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “I had a bad dream. Sorry I woke you.”

It took a moment for the cobwebs to clear. Reevie plopped down on the end of his bed. “Bad dream? I thought maybe Avalanche was attacking.” He dropped his beater on the bed and rubbed his hands down his face. “Not exactly a good omen, is it?” Leaving the bludgeon where it was, he yawned and crawled back under his covers.

I flipped the wet side of my pillow over before lying back down.

“Let’s have it then.”

“What?”

“Your dream, what was your dream?”

“It was nothing,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Something about a giant and a sandwich.”

“I love sandwiches.” Reevie turned to face the wall. His words began to slur as he fell back to sleep. “Ms. Orilla makes the bes … san …ches.” And just like that he was snoring.

I laid there for a long time listening to the steady creaking of the building above, envious of Reevie and his ability to drift off to sleep. Finally, I gave up my attempt, crawled out of bed, and made my way upstairs. The best way I knew to take my mind off things was to train. I was careful not to push myself. I was going to need everything I had for this evening.

The rest of the morning and afternoon came and went before I had time to even realize they were gone. Reevie and I were already on our way back to the Temple to meet up with our tribe when it suddenly dawned on me what we were doing. It wasn’t like the Pit hadn’t been on my thoughts every waking moment since Red had suggested it to the Guild, but the rush of nerves hadn’t caught up with me yet. It was like how a person behaved after a serious injury. Reevie called it shock. They don’t feel the pain and sometimes their mind doesn’t even register they’re in danger until it’s too late.

The fear caught up to me now that my weeks of ‘shock’ had worn off. It took all my training to fight it, to not let it control me. If it did, I was dead.

Our shoes made clopping sounds on the mismatched cobble as we made our way northeast toward the Temple. Instead of the light brown jerkin Ms. Orilla had helped me pick out, I wore my black vest, leaving no doubt to my position within Hurricane. The warm afternoon breeze did little to stifle the humidity in the air. I could feel perspiration running down my back.

Reevie carried his healer’s sack slung across his body. It bounced against his hip as he limped his way down the street.

The Temple gate was open when we arrived, and the tribe assembled. Spats and the Guard joined us at the front. Sapphire spotted me and attempted a smile, but it came out lopsided, her worry tugging one corner of her mouth downward.

“Are you ready?” Spats asked, looking me over. He was once again wearing his blue brocade vest and white cravat.

“Yes, sir,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster under the circumstances.

“Right! Let’s be off.”

I fell into step behind the rest of the Guard so I could lend support to Reevie. “How far away is the Pit?”

“We’ll take Terrance south until we hit Mora,” Reevie said, “and then straight east until we reach the depository.” He shrugged. “A couple hours at least, I reckon.” Reevie reached inside his knapsack. “You want something to eat? I brought apples.”

I was so nervous I didn’t think I could stomach it, but I took one, knowing I would need the energy.

As rundown as the back of Cheapside was, it still felt almost new compared to the old stone and brick structures that made up the Warrens. It was an interesting experience walking down Mora, Cheapside on our left and the Warrens on our right. It was like walking between two different worlds.

The street lamps of Cheapside gave dim illumination for residents on their way home after a hard day’s work. In the Warrens, there was nothing but silence. Even with my Upakan eyes, I could only see about twenty or thirty feet down each vacant lane before the thick gloom overshadowed my sight.

The sound of boots and bare feet as they met the stone echoed down the empty street. The lack of chatter from the other members made it clear they were feeling edgy. They didn’t care to be marching a mere stone’s throw from The Warrens. I still wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. As of yet, I’d seen no reason for alarm. Other than the eeriness that naturally comes from long-abandoned buildings, I had yet to see why everyone was so worried.

It didn’t take long, though, before the hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle. It felt as though there were eyes within the darkness peering out at me, but every time I looked, there was nothing there. I shook my head at the silliness of it all.

The march down Mora was slow and tedious. The brightest of the stars were just coming into view. It was a clear night and I could taste the salt in the air. Little details jumped out at me the closer we got to our final destination. The thought that this might be the last evening I spent in this world caused me to pay extra close attention to everything around me, no matter how trivial.

My mind started to wander to things I’d never done, things I’d never get the chance to do if I were to fail tonight. I’d never get the chance to see my family again, not that I thought there was any great possibility of that happening. I’d never get to spend another day with Reevie, or listen as he cursed his diseases at me for doing something foolish. I’d never get to taste another one of Ms. Orilla’s mystery-meat sandwiches, or help Master Fentin organize his books while he regaled me with stories of his past. I’d never get the opportunity to kiss a girl. That wasn’t high on my list, but Sapphire had a way of making me wish it was.

Above all else, if something were to happen to me tonight, I’d never get the opportunity to take back what had been stolen from me. That thought, more than anything, helped me push down the fear. There was no way I was going back to the dust knowing my father’s ring would be forever decorating Red’s neck.

After what seemed like hours of walking, a noise ahead caught my attention. It grew in volume the farther down the street we marched. I tried moving Reevie over a little so I could peek around the Guard, but the way ahead was too dark, and it looked like the road curved sharply to the left.

“We’re almost there,” Reevie said. I felt his small hand grip my arm like a vice. In front of us, Spats and the Guard followed the sharp curve until it reached its end. We appeared to be leaving the Warrens behind as we took the next street to the left. Unlike the others we had passed, this road was lit with torches on either side, directing us to our final destination—the old repository, better known as the Pit.

There was a block wall surrounding the grounds. It was nearly as tall as the one around the Temple, but didn’t look as solid, or decorative. We passed underneath the open arches. The inside was washed in pale moonlight. Cooking fires dotted the area, casting wary shadows across the stone buildings and open yard.

Hundreds of kids sprawled out across the grounds, grouped by tribes. Each tribe was marked by an armband: white for Avalanche, purple for Sandstorm, red for Wildfire, and green for Rockslide. Suspicious looks and distrustful glances passed from one fire to the next, each tribe keeping a close eye on the others. All chatter ceased when we stepped through the gates.

Our procession was uncharacteristically silent as we made our way toward the large stone-encased building that stood at the center of the compound. It was at least twice the size of the others. The front was lit with torches and there was a steady stream of kids making their way in and out.

The silence was eerie. All eyes followed us across the open yard.

“This ain’t at all creepy,” Reevie whispered as he scanned the faces of the closest kids. There was a hunger in their eyes that sent a shiver up my back. I half-wondered if they were all planning to eat my flesh as well. Maybe that was the reason for the cooking fires.

Once we entered the building, the conversations outside started up again, but they were quickly drowned out by the noise ahead of us. The floor shook with the sheer volume of it.

The tiny foyer surprised me, having seen the size of the building from the outside. It was hardly larger than Master Fentin’s book shop. A stone wall separated us from whatever was on the other side.

“It sounds like they’ve already started,” Reevie said. He had to lean in close just to be heard.

There were two directions to choose from, a corridor on the left and one on the right. Both looked to lead around the wall and into whatever awaited us on the other side. There was a set of armed guards at each, checking the kids before they passed.

Our tribe split in two. Half went right; the other went left. I followed Spats and the Guard as we took the left entrance.

“What are they doing?” I asked Reevie as we approached the guards.

“They’re making sure that no one is carrying weapons inside the Pit.”

The armed boys stationed at the entrance allowed those of us with black vests on to pass without being checked, including me. One of the guards took a look inside Reevie’s bag while another patted him down.

The noise reverberating around the inside of the passageway was unnerving. Reevie clung to my arm as we headed in, the sound threatening to swallow us. In truth, I wanted to cling to his. The torches lining the stone corridor cast distorted shadows on the walls as we made our way down and around to the other side. If my heart wasn’t racing before, it certainly was now. I had no idea what to expect. I thought by the number of kids we had passed outside that there couldn’t have been that many more inside.

I was wrong.

We stepped out of the narrow corridor and my jaw dropped.

There had to be at least a thousand street rats gathered, all screaming at the top of their lungs at a fight in the arena below. Where had they all come from? Were there that many forgotten children living within the walls of Aramoor? Sometimes I failed to remember how big the city really was.

The Pit was nothing more than a large hole dug out in the center of the warehouse. The fights had already started. Two boys were beating each other with their fists, and not very well. They swung their arms high and wide, as if trying to maneuver a ten-pound ball-and-chain flail. With such a terrible technique, they were likely to do more damage to themselves than their opponent.

The warehouse was stifling. The stench of so many unwashed bodies crammed into one place flooded my nostrils. Underneath it was the smell of damp soil and old pine, with a heavy dash of sweat and blood thrown in for good measure. The Pit was completely surrounded by rough wooden stands, divided into five sections. Each tribe’s seating was divided from the others by colored markers painted into the back.

An open walkway ran directly behind the seating, allowing the tribes to get from one section to the next without having to mingle. It seemed the Guild was trying to prevent any unnecessary conflicts.

The Pit itself was at least thirty feet in diameter. The floor was packed soil with a layer of sand thrown on top. The walls were framed in wood to keep the dirt from eroding, much like the mining tunnels on the outskirts of the Lost City.

“This way!” Spats shouted. He had to shout or no one would have heard him over the roar of the crowd. As it was, the only reason I heard it was because I was standing directly behind the Guard. I grabbed Reevie by the arm and helped him up the wooden steps toward the outer walkway. We met the other half of our tribe as they exited the opposite stairwell further down.

The first section of risers had been painted white for Avalanche. Before we were halfway to the next section, we were met by a group of Avalanche guards. I could see Cutter was just behind them, pushing his way through to the front. “Spats, so good of you to finally show up. We were beginning to worry you had lost your nerve and decided to stay home.”

“You’re gonna wish I had stayed home,” Spats shot back, “by the time my champion gets through with yours.”

Cutter laughed. His guards laughed. Embarrassingly enough, some of our own members laughed. Cutter eyeballed me, rubbing the scraggy patch of hair on his chin. “I believe we’re going to set a record tonight. This is going to be the shortest fight in the history of the Pit. You might want to have another champion lined up, just to make sure it’s worth the crowd’s time.” He laughed again and patted Spats on the shoulder, then made his way back to his seat at the front with as much show as possible.

Spats’s face was as dark as a moonless night.

Reevie passed me a sympathetic look as the tribe started forward once again.

I felt Red’s presence before I saw her. It was that same empty feeling I got whenever she was around, like some part of me was missing, namely my magic. I only wished I knew what she was doing to cause it. She stood at the back of her tribe’s seating and watched us pass.

Toothless was on her left. He looked ready to pounce on me himself. He held quite the menacing presence as long as he didn’t open his mouth. In complete contrast, the guard on her right was as short as Reevie and twice as wide. I wondered if he was in some way related since he had the same black hair. Or maybe she relied on him for advice; although, I found the idea of Red taking advice from anyone rather hard to imagine.

My father’s ring hung from her neck for all to see. She enjoyed pouring salt on the wound whenever she had the opportunity. Her eyes were trained on me as she gently caressed the ring between her fingers. My fists balled. If I could have reached her without starting an all-out war, I would have. To add insult to injury, she winked at me.

Sapphire snorted. She’d obviously seen Red’s gesture.

The next section belonged to Sandstorm, and we managed to pass behind them without incident. Finally, we reached ours. Blue paint marked the back of the empty tiers. Spats waved his hand and the kids rushed to find their seats. It was a mad dash to see who could get the closest. I thought they were about to start a battle right there amongst themselves.

Eventually, the biggest of the lot claimed the closer seating on the lower levels by throwing the smaller ones back. The rest made do with the seating further up. It was the perfect example of life on the streets—every kid for themselves.

“Spats, a word if you don’t mind.” Noph circled his way around the back of Rockslide to get to us. His own escort of armed guards followed closely on his heels.

“How are you feeling today?” Noph asked me after acknowledging Spats with a slight bow of his head. “Hopefully fit.”

I nodded. “I’m ready.” I heard the words come out of my mouth and hoped they sounded sincere, because my gut was telling me something completely different.

Noph studied my face. “Good, good.” He glanced at Spats. “We don’t want Avalanche walking away with another victory, do we? He’s won the last three in a row. I don’t intend to see a fourth.”

This news did nothing to calm my already frayed nerves.

“Besides, I’ve got a lot of coin riding on you.”

“Easiest gold I’ve ever made,” Kore said as he joined the small gathering, his green vest showing off his intimidatingly muscular frame. “Like stealing coins from a blind beggar.”

Noph simply smiled, but it was the smile of someone who appeared to be holding a few cards up their sleeve, just waiting to be thrown down on a final hand. Kore rolled his eyes and turned to Spats. “A decision has been made as to the punishment that will be levied on the tribe who loses tonight. Restitution will be given in the amount of one hundred gold pieces—”

“One hundred gold pieces?” Spats looked like he’d choked on his own tongue. I thought he was going to faint. “We can’t possibly afford that much gold! This . . . this is outrageous! Our territories don’t produce that sort of profit. That would take nearly everything we have.”

Kore’s grin dripped with sarcasm. “Then I guess you better win,” he said and left.

Noph fiddled with his purple tie. “Don’t worry. I have a good feeling about tonight.” He spared one more glance my way, nodded, and left as well.

Spats looked like he was ready to order a quick march out of there. To his credit, he didn’t. His cheeks had turned a pale green. It was an interesting contrast to his red hair. Sapphire had to help him down one of the aisles toward the front.

Reevie leaned on me as we followed them in. The front row of our section had been left open for Spats and the Guard. We started to take seats on the end when Spats waved us over to sit with him. A few of the guards moved down to make room.

“You see that over there?” Spats pointed down to an alcove on the opposite side of the Pit. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the shouts and cheers from the kids watching the bloody match below. “That’s where the fighters enter the ring. There’s another one just below us.”

I hadn’t noticed the small door before. It had been blocked by the stands on our way in. “Where do they lead?” I asked.

“They go underneath the risers and come out on the other side of the walkway behind us.”

A shriek of pain, and a sudden roar from the crowd, brought our attention back to the center as one of the boys took a nasty kick to the side of his leg. He fell backwards and started to crawl toward the door on the other side of the ring, dragging his injured leg as he went. He was wearing one of Rockslide’s green armbands. His opponent’s was red.

The Wildfire boy kicked again, but the boy with the green band managed to get his arms up in time to keep his attacker’s foot from connecting with his face.

“You’ll be fighting last,” Spats said, his eyes glued to the fight below. “You are the main attraction, after all.” He didn’t say anything else as he watched the Rockslide boy on the ground push himself up against the door and start banging on it with his fists.

“Let me in! Let me in!”

Parts of the crowd began to laugh, others shouted their displeasure at his cowardice, most cheered on the red fighter with chants of: “Fin—ish him! Fin—ish him!”

As an Upaka, I was trained in the art of inflicting harm, but the outright hunger for blood that I saw coming from these kids was truly alarming.

The fighter from Wildfire charged the injured boy and he dove to the side. Before he had a chance to get up, the other was on top of him. He raised his arms to protect his face, so the red fighter went for the body. There was no finesse, no calculation, no forethought or purpose, nothing but the desire to inflict as much damage as possible. As long as his fist connected with the other boy’s body, that seemed to be all that mattered.

I glanced across the arena and caught Red staring my way. She had a smile on her face, similar to the time she had done the same to me. I looked away.

The larger boy pulled back and slowly circled the wounded Rockslide fighter, raising his arms in the air to drive his audience into frenzy. They, of course, didn’t need much prodding. The kids in the stands were now stomping their feet to the rhythmic chant of: “Fin—ish him! Fin—ish him! Fin—ish him!”

Kore was leaning out over the edge of the Pit, shouting down threats at his injured fighter, trying to force the kid to get back to his feet and keep fighting.

The boy on the ground tried crawling back toward the wall while the other one played to the fans. It was plain to see the green fighter was through. He winced with every breath. Tears streamed down his face as he scuttled for the wall.

He had barely made it a few feet when the Wildfire boy kicked him in the head and sent him flailing on his back. This fight was over. The kick had muddled the boy’s senses. I wondered why they weren’t calling the match. The kid from Rockslide had clearly lost.

The boy with the red band walked over to where the other one was writhing in the sand and stood over him. The injured kid was too busy crying to see what was happening. My stomach churned as I watched the fighter lift the other boy by the front of his tunic and then turn and raise his fist to the audience. The kids in the stands leapt to their feet. Reevie and I were the only ones still sitting as the fans shouted once more. “Fin—ish him! Fin—ish him!”

The red fighter smiled and punched the kid in the face. He punched him again, and kept punching him until the boy was completely unconscious, his broken body limp and his face covered in blood.

The crowd cheered. Those with wagers on the one still standing cheered the loudest.

I turned my head and shared a look with Reevie. No words were needed.

As soon as the loser’s unconscious body was dragged from the Pit, a tall kid with short brown hair and a rather distinguished yellow tie walked out to the center of the ring and proclaimed the winner. I wondered what the significance of the yellow tie was, possibly part of his official uniform.  The announcer’s voice carried quite the distance for someone so skinny. Once the crowd’s excitement died down, he declared the next fight and it all started over.

The rest of the evening followed the same pattern of events: another fight, another winner, another loser, all the while the audience eating up every bloody strike. The fighters from Avalanche and Rockslide seemed to take the greatest pleasure in the ways they finished their opponents, each one trying to come up with some new, more creative way to shed blood.

The fights that brought about the most amusement from the crowd, however, were the bouts between the girls. There was something about watching two girls ripping each other’s hair out that brought a smile to those watching from the seats above. I thought it probably had more to do with the fact that occasionally one or both of the fighters would lose part of their tops in the struggle than it did with the impressiveness of their fights.

Most of the girls’ bouts ended in one of the girls surrendering as opposed to being left unconscious and bleeding in the dirt. Although, those with longer nails tended to do some pretty nasty damage to the open skin of their rival’s faces, forearms, and chests. More often than not, the girls walked away in worse looking shape than the boys. There was one exception. A dark-skinned fighter from Sandstorm who used a back spinning kick to knock the front teeth out of her opponent’s face. She sent the girl flying at least four feet. They had to carry her out on a stretcher. I had to admit, it was a pretty impressive move. After that, no one else wanted to challenge the dark fighter.

It made me wonder if Sapphire had ever gotten in the ring. I remembered Reevie talking about the Soren Challenge and how it took place in the Pit. I wondered if this was how the tribes recruited their guards. I didn’t like the thought of her having been forced to fight in a place like this.

After the last kid’s body was removed from the arena, the skinny announcer made his way to the center of the Pit and raised his hands to quiet the audience. “It’s finally here! The fight you’ve all been waiting for. The winner-take-all battle between Avalanche—” The lanky boy pointed toward the white seating and the Avalanche kids stomped their feet in acknowledgment. “And Hurricane,” he said, turning to point our way. My seat began to vibrate as our tribe did the same.

The announcer waited for the feet thumping to fade before continuing. My pulse was racing. I still had no use of my magic. I could sense its presence, but not control it. I looked across the ring and Red winked at me again. I wondered how far away I needed to be for it to return. Clearly, whatever was going on, I couldn’t count on the use of my gift.

“It’s time to go,” Reevie said, his voice causing me to jump. “I’ll walk you down.”

I broke off my staring contest with Red and followed Reevie to the end of the row. The announcer continued working the crowd as we passed between the Hurricane risers. Those on the outer edges stared down at us as we passed underneath, some with encouraging smiles, others with looks of mourning and regret.

“Wait just a moment,” the announcer said. “I believe we have some news.”

The stands quieted down as they waited to see what was happening. I stopped near the end of the row and turned around. I couldn’t see the Pit or the announcer from where we stood. What’s going on? Were they going to call it off? I doubted I was that lucky.

“There has been a last-minute change to tonight’s fight,” the announcer finally said. “And it is sure to make the wait worthwhile. I’ve just been informed, and this is coming directly from the Guild, that tonight’s final round will be . . .” He paused in order to build the tension.

“A fight to the death!”

The stands erupted into mad chaos, the kids jumping up and down, shouting at the top of the lungs at the unexpected turn of events. Their hunger for death was sickening.

Reevie tripped over his own feet and went down. I was too stunned to do more than watch. By the time I had gathered my thoughts, he was nearly back to his feet, pulling himself up on one of the support posts at the back of one of the stands.

“They haven’t had a fight to the death since Skull Crusher.”

“Skull Crusher?”

“They banned them years ago because of the effect it had on the tribes. Once they got a taste for death, it only grew from there. Pretty soon, they expected to see someone die with every fight.”

“How was this a Guild decision? I was at the meeting. No one said anything about a fight to the death.”

“It requires a majority vote to make a decision like that, which means three chiefs had to have agreed. I guarantee that this was Cutter’s doing, and I don’t see Kore turning his nose up to the notion. He’s always enjoyed a good fight, which leaves—”

“Red!” I hissed. “I know it was her.” The way she had been staring at me the entire evening made sense now. She knew what was coming. This was her way to be rid of me once and for all.

Over my dead body. I stiffened my back, turned, and marched straight for the entrance leading down to the ring. I wasn’t about to let Cutter and Red win. If they wanted a fight, they were going to get a fight. By the time this was over, everyone was going to know my name, and fear it. They didn’t know who they were messing with.

I started down the steps and into the dark passageway below. The smell of moist soil, blood, and retch assaulted my nose. Light from the arena poured through a set of bars ahead.

“Ayrion, wait,” Reevie called out, dragging himself after me. “Let’s just get out of here. We can make it on our own. We don’t need the tribes.”

“He’s right.” Sapphire’s voice was soft but firm as she ran to catch up. “You need to get out of here, Ayrion.”

“If I leave, every tribe up there would brand me a coward and hunt me down.”

“Then we hide,” Reevie said.

“For how long?” I asked. “The rest of our lives? That’s no way to live.”

“Then . . . then we leave Aramoor.” I could hear the desperation in Reevie’s voice at the very mention of leaving his home. Aramoor was all he had ever known.

From the arena behind me, the announcer was continuing to drive his audience into total madness. The stadium overhead thundered with stomping feet as they demanded the fight begin. Tiny clods of dirt rained down and I shook them from my hair. “I’m Upaka. I was born to fight. This is who I am.”

“You were also born with some common sense,” Reevie said. “Now let’s get out of here while we still can.” He grabbed my arm and started to pull, but I jerked away.

“I’m not about to go sneaking out of here like a coward and let Cutter and Red and the rest of them up there get away with this.”

“Better to live a coward than to die a hero,” Sapphire said.

“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

I thought she was going to say something, but instead, she stepped forward and kissed me on the lips. I could taste the salt of her tears in my mouth, and for a moment, I almost gave in to their pleas, but then I pictured Red’s smug satisfaction, and the way Cutter had dismissed me as trivial, not to mention the Guild and their decision to see me fight to the death. Anger flared and I pulled away from Sapphire’s embrace and turned to face the Pit door. I knew I couldn’t look in her eyes again or I’d never be able to go through with it. “I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t.” Reevie sounded like he was on the verge of tears as well. “You’re talking about . . . killing someone—”

“What do you think I’ve been training for all my life?”

“All your life? In case it’s escaped your attention . . . you’re thirteen. What could you have possibly done at thirteen?”

I stared through the bars. “You’d be surprised.”

Reevie huffed. “I’m more worried about him killing you. Please, Ayrion, let’s just get out of here.” He grabbed my arm and spun me around.

“If I were to leave in disgrace, how do you think that would affect the rest of Hurricane? You think Cutter won’t see that as a clear sign of weakness? How long do you think he’ll go before he attacks the Temple?” I turned back toward the door as the announcer wound his spiel to its climax. “I don’t want the blood of Hurricane on my conscience.”

“You don’t owe them anything,” Reevie mumbled under his breath.

I didn’t reply. My own pride wouldn’t let me leave now. It was time I lived up to my heritage. I was Upaka and we didn’t back down from anyone.

“. . . challenger, our mysterious newcomer and first-time fighter in the Pit . . .” The beansprout of a boy in the ring quickly walked over to the door. “What’s your name?”

“What?”

“What’s your name? I’ve got to give them your name.”

“Ayr …” I started to say and then shook my head. That wasn’t going to work. I needed something . . . more. I couldn’t very well face someone named Flesh Eater with a pretty name like Ayrion.

“Death’s Shadow,” Reevie called out behind me. “His name is Death’s Shadow.”

Death’s Shadow. Interesting. I liked it. I could have spent all day thinking up a name and wouldn’t have come up with something half as good.

The skinny announcer stepped back out into the arena. “Death’s Shadoooooow!”

There were a few claps and a couple whistles as I opened the door and stepped into the amber light of the torches that lined the upper railing. The lackluster applause came from some of the Hurricane members behind me, and most of it was probably just to encourage me to walk out there in the first place.

I didn’t pay much attention. My eyes were focused on the closed gate across the Pit. From the other side, I could hear people yelling and what sounded like the crack of a whip. Was Flesh Eater a person or an animal?

The tall, lanky kid, having finished with my brief introduction, was busy conversing with someone at the far door. I glanced at my shoes, which had already seen some rough wear since I’d purchased them. They might have been comfortable enough to walk around town in, but they weren’t exactly made for a fight. Not only were they extra weight, they were a little loose. Ms. Orilla had told me to purchase them a size or two larger so I wouldn’t grow out of them too fast. I had stuffed the insides with paper to compensate. I didn’t want risk them getting in my way, so I knelt and started untying the laces. I listened to the snickers and taunts as I stripped down to my bare feet.

“Look at those lily-white toes!”

“You plan on stinking us to death?”

“He just wants to make sure Flesh Eater has something to chew on!”

The jeers and laughter continued, growing louder, up until the point that I took off my shirt. One look at my back and chest and the catcalls ceased. I, of course, was used to it, but most kids don’t have scars covering three-quarters of their body. I tried not to worry what Sapphire might think.

The earlier laughter faded to hushed whispers by the time the announcer made his way back out to the center of the ring. I walked over to the door and handed my clothes to Reevie.

“Your back, Ayrion.” Sapphire’s eyes glistened in the torchlight. “What happened to your back?”

“It’s nothing.”

I motioned for Reevie to pull the door shut. I took a few steps to the right and started to stretch. The last thing needed was to rip a tight muscle in the middle of the fight and end up getting chewed on by Flesh Eater. I ran through my warm-up routine like I did every morning, building the blood flow first, and then stretching down from there. My muscles were fairly limber this evening, having had the entire day to warm.

I was very thankful for the one piece of clothing I had kept on: my pants. They were loose and lightweight, perfect for allowing me the use of my legs for kicking or running. I continued to focus on what was coming. I didn’t even bother to turn around when the announcer gave his opening introduction to my opponent. I knelt and thrust my hands deep into the layered sand until I hit the soil beneath. It was tacky, and exactly what I was looking for. My hands needed traction for grip, so I made sure to cover them both.

“. . . known for his voracious appetite! The Pit’s reigning champion! Break out your applause for . . . Flesh Eaterrrrr!”

Unlike my entrance into the Pit, my opponent’s was met with a standing ovation and a roar of, “Flesh Eater! Flesh Eater! Flesh Eater!” The crowd’s feet stomped in time. Some of the kids were so riled up I thought they were going to jump into the Pit and start fighting themselves. No such luck.

I stopped my stretching and turned around when the gate on the opposite side of the ring finally opened. Like all the others, I waited to catch a first glimpse of my opponent.

From the shadows of the unlit corridor beyond, two large boys stepped out, their backs to the ring. In their hands were long wooden poles that were attached to something still inside the tunnel. Whatever it was, they were having a bloody flux of a time, as Reevie would have said, fighting to drag it out.

I heard a deep growl from somewhere in the blackness that sounded anything but human. What have I gotten myself into?

The two older boys gave a final tug on the poles as a crack of a whip drove my opponent out the door.

As soon as the torchlight hit him, my heart skipped a beat.

Flesh Eater wasn’t just big for a boy. He was big for a man. I’d never seen anyone that tall, at least seven feet. He was the closest thing to a true giant that I could imagine. He was covered in leather straps. I couldn’t tell if they were being used as some sort of makeshift armor, or just another way to add a bit of eeriness to his persona.

Bull was right. Flesh Eaters’ face was completely hidden underneath a hideous mask. Two holes had been cut for his eyes, and a larger one started at the bottom of his nose and ran down under his chin. The monstrous fangs I had seen in my dream might not have been present, but he was terrifying nonetheless.

I barely had time to catch my breath when the skinny announcer nearly ran me over trying to get to the door on my side. He offered a hasty “good luck” on his way by. He clearly had no intention of getting caught out in the open when they released whatever it was they were dragging out toward the center of the Pit.

A third boy followed the other two through the door on the far side. He cracked a short whip across Flesh Eater’s back to keep him moving in the right direction. Each of the long rods the boys held had a hook on one end that connected to a harness around Flesh Eater’s waist. They used the poles the same way a sailor used a boat hook to maneuver the mooring lines.

As soon as they had managed to get him far enough out, the boys unhooked their poles and all three made a fast dash for the door, but Flesh Eater was too quick for them. He released a deep barking growl and charged. The first two made it through, but the third tripped on his pole and skidded to a stop just shy of the entrance. Before he could get back to his feet, the other boys slammed the door shut.

“No! Let me in! Let me in!” he screamed, banging on the metal bars with both fists. Before the boy had a chance to turn around, Flesh Eater was on him. The kid shrieked as the masked behemoth grabbed his legs and dragged him out into the center of the arena. The boy kicked and screamed, crying out for help.

The crowd roared with excitement.

Flesh Eater looked up at the kids surrounding him and cocked his head to the side. He swiped at them with his free hand, the way an alley cat would a stray dog it didn’t like. He looked back down at the boy whose leg he was holding and raised him up off the ground. The boy punched and kicked, but Flesh Eater seemed oblivious.

The boy’s trousers on the leg that Flesh Eater was holding slid down to his knee. Flesh Eater lifted him higher and sniffed. They crowd started chanting: “Eat His Flesh! Eat His Flesh!” The giant looked down at the white leg and then back up at the crowd, who were now pumping their fists in the air and stomping their feet. “Eat His Flesh! Eat His Flesh! Eat His Flesh!”

The boy was weeping uncontrollably, pleading for someone to help him as Flesh Eater raised the leg to his mouth. The stands were going wild. Flesh Eater growled and bit down. The kid screamed as teeth sank into muscle. The arena shook as the audience continued to chant at the top of their lungs: “Eat His Flesh! Eat His Flesh!”

Flesh Eater’s mouth was covered in blood. It dripped from his chin. He spun in a circle and launched the kid across the ring. The boy went silent as his body flailed through the air and hit the sand, coming to a stop about ten feet from the far wall.

I carefully eased my way to the door, my back pressed to the wall, making sure not to draw Flesh Eater’s attention. Reevie and Sapphire were watching through the bars.

“Lock this,” I said. “No matter what, don’t open it for anyone.”

“What about that boy over there?” Reevie asked, pointing to the bawling kid on the other side of the Pit. He’d somehow managed to make it to his hands and knees, and was dragging himself to the far door.

“He’s my distraction.”

I scanned the Pit for anything I could use as a weapon. Luck—or possibly the Creator—smiled on me. Not only had they left this kid behind in their rush to get through the door, but they had left his pole hook as well.

This wasn’t exactly the type of fight where a long wooden rod was going to be of much assistance, hook or not. If my only goal was to keep him off me, then a lengthier weapon would be exactly what I needed. However, with this being a fight where the only winner was the one left standing, I was going to have to get close enough to inflict real damage.

So far, Flesh Eater hadn’t noticed me. That was one good thing about his mask. While it was certainly effective at making him look frightening, it hindered his peripheral vision. As smoothly as possible, I skirted the walls of the Pit, making my way around to the other side where the boy’s pole hook lay half-buried in the sand.

Flesh Eater continued to growl and bark at the kids above, swatting at them as if they were a pesky sweat fly. The injured boy screamed in pain as he tried dragging himself to the other door, drawing Flesh Eater’s attention back to the ring.

I was almost to the pole when Flesh Eater finally gave up trying to get his hands on the kids in the stands and started once more for the boy. His back was turned to me, so I lengthened my stride, keeping a close eye on the mask in case it turned in my direction. I grabbed the pole and tested its weight. It balanced like a javelin or halberd, minus the sharp tip at the end. If the pole had been tipped instead of hooked, ending this fight would have been as simple as walking up behind him and thrusting at an angle through his back, making sure to either sever the spine or puncture the heart or lungs on its way out the other side.

As it was, the pole’s thickness gave me an idea.

I could feel the tension in the crowd grow as I stepped out from the wall and slowly made my way up behind Flesh Eater. Kids screamed down for the masked cannibal to turn around, to look behind him, to watch out, but their calls merely blended with the rest, a great cacophony of sounds reverberating off the thick stone walls.

The injured boy stopped scuttling for the door as soon as he saw Flesh Eater coming his way, and crawled as fast as he could back toward the nearest side of the Pit.

Flesh Eater closed the distance and the boy kicked at him with his good leg. Flesh Eater just watched and grunted whenever the boy landed a solid blow to his shin, then he grabbed him by the arm and picked him up. The boy managed to land a solid punch to one of the eye holes and was rewarded by being dropped back to the ground. He landed with a thud and quickly pushed his way back against the wall, curling into a fetal position.

Flesh Eater shook his head and rubbed at his eye. This was the distraction I needed. I gripped the pole hook about a third of the way up from the base. I bent my knees and focused. “Don’t you move,” I said, and then charged.

My bare feet padded noiselessly across the sand, kicking up debris with every step. The kids above me cheered and shouted, anxious to see some action, but I tuned them all out. Nothing existed but my target.

Everything faded away as I flew across the open pit. I could hear the beating of my heart, the breath being forced from my lips, the sound of each step drawing me closer to my opponent. His back was still turned as he tugged at his mask. If I did this right, it would all be over in a matter of moments.

Three strides: I twisted my arms to get as much swing as possible. Two strides: I took a deep breath and concentrated on the exact spot I intended to strike. One stride: I roared with everything in me and swung the pole with all my might.

There was a loud crack as the end of the rod slammed into the side of Flesh Eater’s skull. The audience, for the first time since I had stepped foot in the warehouse, went deathly quiet. I could still hear the echo of wood meeting bone on the stone walls overhead.

Flesh Eater, instead of collapsing unconscious to the ground like I had hoped, was thrown to the side three or four steps and stumbled to one knee. There was an awkward moment of silence, followed by the most hideous, disturbing wail I’d ever heard, as Flesh Eater raised his hands to his head and began to weep. I was so taken back by the unexpected reaction that instead of rushing over to finish the job, I just stood there. Apparently, those watching from the stands above were just as shocked. No one said a word.

The enormous boy in the mask stayed on his knees. His entire body shook with the force of his crying. This childlike reaction was more unnerving to me than anything else.

I didn’t have time to waste. I needed to finish this while he was down. I lifted my pole and noticed it had a long split running at an angle from one side to the other. The hook at the end of the pole wasn’t exactly sharp, but with enough force, it could do some real damage. If I could hit the large vein in the side of his neck, my opponent would bleed out in a matter of minutes.

Flesh Eater was only about ten steps away. With my weapon at the ready, I started forward. His neck was completely unprotected. If I could just—

“Watch out!” an unexpected voice cried out from the audience above, warning Flesh Eater of my approach. It was a voice I recognized immediately, a voice that had brought no small amount of annoyance to my life over the last weeks. It was one of the last voices I would have expected to hear. It was the voice of a high-pitched weasel.

I froze for an instant. But that was all Flesh Eater needed as he spun around at the warning and grabbed the other end of the pole.

The crowd went wild.

I was so fixated on the fact that my own chief had just betrayed me that I didn’t realize I was spinning in a circle until it was too late. My feet left the ground as I clung to my end of the rod. I watched the sides of the Pit’s walls come and go as I continued to spin.

How did I get to this point? Was it chance or fate? Looking back, it was hard to reconcile everything that had happened to me as being the product of chance, some random sequence of happenings that had culminated in my eventual standoff with Flesh Eater inside the Pit. The odds of it were absurd.

On the other hand, if this was designed by fate, a master plan sent down from some all-powerful Creator, then what was the point? I definitely wasn’t seeing it. To be honest, I wasn’t seeing much of anything at the moment but a blur as my body swung around and around.

If there was a Creator and He did have a purpose for all of this, it would really be nice to have been given some sort of warning first.  Finding myself stuck in the middle of this arena facing a cannibalistic monster without a real weapon was bad enough, but to also be deprived of my magic, bordered on the cruel.

I was afraid to let go, but if I didn’t, I was going to be too dizzy to put up any worthwhile defense. I closed my eyes and released. It felt like I was still sailing through the air on the end of the pole hook when I finally hit the dirt. On instinct, I curled my body and rolled, coming back to my feet in a one swift movement.

I barely had time to open my eyes and stop the world from spinning when Flesh Eater slammed into me. It was like being hit by a boulder—not one that had just wiggled free from its niche in the side of a mountain, but one that had traveled the entire length of Dragon Fang, building momentum to an absolute peak before plowing me over.

I was lifted clean off my feet and sent flying backwards with a speed that took my breath away. The only sounds I could hear were the roar of the crowd, and the wheeze of my own breath rushing from my lungs as I hit the wall behind me. I landed on my hands and knees and coughed blood. I couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard I tried, or how wide I opened my mouth, the air wouldn’t come. For the first time in a long time, I was truly terrified.

All the training in the world could not have prepared me for the horror of watching Flesh Eater come for me. He howled like a person possessed, his mouth painted in blood. I could feel each vibrating step as he charged. His arms were outstretched; teeth spread wide, ready to sink into my flesh. My training tried to flee like a frightened jack rabbit, but I fought back. I set my jaw. I wasn’t going to be a victim. I was Upaka.

I coughed, and my chest heaved as I sucked in breath. I scooted back against the wall, pulled myself to my feet and waited. Three. Two. One.

Flesh Eater swung his elbow straight for my head, but I ducked and spun left. His elbow slammed into the wall with a loud crack. Bits of wood flew everywhere. The masked giant stared at the wall in confusion, then down at the ground, trying to figure out what had happened to me.

I circled around behind him, trying to keep out of his sight as long as possible while I fought to regain my breath. Flesh Eater roared and ripped chunks of the timber framework from the wall as if I had somehow managed to crawl behind it.

My chest was on fire. He had cracked at least one rib. I spat blood, the taste nothing new thanks to my Upakan training.

The injured boy on the far end of the Pit was attempting to drag himself over to my door this time. I quickly searched for the pole. It was leaning ever so perfectly against the wall about fifteen feet away. Flesh Eater had apparently discarded it, concerned only with getting his hands on me. I slowly backed my way in its direction.

My strike to Flesh Eater’s head seemed to have rattled his already dubious mind. He was still ripping pieces of the wall from the Pit, not having the first idea I was behind him. That was, until once again a shrilling, high-pitched voice rose out above the others.

“Behind you! He’s behind you, you stupid ugly idiot! Turn around!” Somehow Spats’s voice managed to break through the rest of the shouts and whistles and screams, and Flesh Eater turned.

I raced for the pole, the only weapon I had available. My chest felt like someone was thrusting a dull knife into it with every stride. I didn’t need to turn around to know Flesh Eater was right behind me. I could feel his steps and hear his eerie barking growl.

I jumped and landed on the pole, feet first, hitting dead center. It split with a loud snap. I grabbed the two pieces and hefted them like a set of wooden practice swords. Digging my feet into the sand, I turned and with every ounce of strength I could muster, I struck his right leg as he put his weight on it. As big as he was, I swept the leg out from under him and he toppled, landing on top of me before I could dart out of the way.

All the air whooshed from my lungs all over again, which was a small blessing because he stunk worse than anything I’d ever smelled before. It wasn’t like Bull, who smelled of week old sweat. It was the smell of someone who had never bathed a day in his life, someone who had soiled himself repeatedly without washing.

I rammed the butt-end of one of my sticks into the boy’s lower jaw. I heard a definite pop and he rolled off me with another one of his childlike wails as he clutched his face.

I stumbled back to my feet and lifted one of my sticks to strike, but Flesh Eater recovered faster than I thought possible. He backhanded me and sent me into a cartwheel where I landed with a bone-jarring thud on my back. I rolled to my knees and used my sticks to push my way to my feet. This time, Flesh Eater didn’t charge, but circled cautiously out of reach of my sticks.

The kids overhead continued their shouting, thrilled with someone lasting this long. Some had even begun to chant, “Death’s Shadow! Death’s Shadow!” The tribes seemed to be at odds with each other as they fought to see who could shout the other down.

I had taken just about all I could stand of their bloodlust. I knew my days at Hurricane were over, especially after hearing my own chief calling for my death, though I didn’t understand why. My winning would have freed the tribe from punishment over the failed attack on Avalanche. Could he have worked out another deal of some kind? Was he the third chief who had agreed to a trial by death, and not Red?

I drove the thoughts from my head. Focus, Ayrion, focus!

Flesh Eater, finally getting tired of circling, ran straight at me and swung. I blocked the punch with my right stick and landed a hard blow to his knee with my left. He punched again and I ducked underneath and struck a blow across his ribs. He blocked my second swing with his arm, the leather straps acting as makeshift armor. He swung again and I danced aside.

The more Flesh Eater tried and failed to hit me, the more enraged he became. Swing after swing, I continued to throw him back, parry and strike, parry and strike. He soon lost all patience and barreled through my next barrage of hits. He grabbed my arm and belt and lifted me over his head. I used the stick from my free arm and struck his face. His nose snapped. He screamed and threw me straight at the wall.

I curled on impact, losing both sticks as I crashed into the wooden framework. Pain shot through my left side. I thought I’d broken my arm, but found I was still able to move it and shoved myself back to my feet. I ducked under Flesh Eater’s next swing and he smashed the plank where my head had been. He recovered quickly and grabbed me by the neck and raised me in the air.

He was just too strong, and my body too broken to move like I should have been able to. I heard Reevie and Sapphire shouting from the door, yelling at me to do something, to fight, screaming for Flesh Eater to stop.

The masked boy’s grip blocked my airway. I couldn’t breathe. His fingers pinched my neck, slowly shutting off my blood flow. I only had a few seconds before I was unconscious. When that happened, I was done for.

My vision blurred as I grabbed the smallest finger on both of Flesh Eater’s hands and snapped them backwards. Both fingers came out of their joints with a pop. The boy screamed and immediately let go. I landed on my feet and stumbled back gasping for air.

The crowd went wild. More shouts of “Death’s Shadow! Death’s Shadow!” could be heard filling the Pit.

The masked creature dropped to his knees, trying to fix his awkwardly bent fingers, but every time he touched them, he wailed even more. His back to me once more as I made my way around to where one of the broken halves of the pole was sticking out of the sand. The split end had a sharp enough point to pierce the boy’s neck.

Either Flesh Eater didn’t see me coming or didn’t care, but I managed to make it within a step or two without any reaction. Loud chants of “Kill Him! Kill Him!” filled half the room. The other half was screaming their disappointment and demanding that Flesh Eater get up and finish the job, Spats above the rest.

Flesh Eater’s neck was open for the kill. The large vein pumping on the side was waiting to be severed. I drew back my weapon, but stopped when something caught my attention. Above the din of angry shouts and desperate pleas, I heard a voice. It was subtle, but it was definitely coming from behind the thick mask over Flesh Eater’s face. Between the sobs as he tried to put his two small fingers back where they were supposed to be, I heard him speak for the first time. It was a simple question really, and he kept repeating it over and over.

“Why hurt Tubby? Why hurt Tubby? Why hurt Tubby?”

I lowered my spear. The shouts over my head grew hostile as the crowds cried out all the louder, demanding they witness a bloody end. I could hear Reevie and Sapphire screaming at me through the door to kill the monster. Kill Flesh Eater and get out of there. I stared down at the helpless creature in front of me and found I couldn’t do it.

Had all my training been for nothing? One look at this poor wretch and I realized that maybe killing wasn’t in my blood after all.

Above me, the tribes were about to come undone. One spark would ignite a fire that would probably burn the entire place to the ground, and at that point, I was willing to let it happen.

“Open the door!” I yelled, leaving Flesh Eater where he was as I ran for the exit. By the time I got there, Reevie and Sapphire had unlocked the gate and were straining to get it open. The boy with the bite in his leg knocked Reevie over as he fought to squeeze through the opening. Sapphire punched him and twisted his arm around his back.

“Let him go,” I said as I reached them. “Things are about to get really bad.”

“Hurry up and get in here so I can shut the door.” Reevie grabbed at my arm.

“No. Leave it open.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Sapphire asked, pointing at Flesh Eater. “What if he gets loose?”

“That’s precisely what I’m hoping for.” I grabbed Reevie by the tunic and yanked him out the door and into the Pit.

“Have you lost your mind?” he shrieked, attempting to kick me in the shin.

“Get out here, both of you, and stay behind me.”

The tribes were out of their seats with a raging chant of: “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” I had no idea which him they were referring to. At this point, probably both of us. Sapphire cautiously stepped out into the arena and scooted back against the wall behind me. “What are we doing, Ayrion?”

“Someone suggested that I should leave the tribes. Do you still think so?” They both nodded so I continued. “Good, ‘cause after tonight, I’m not going to be welcome anywhere.”

“Why?” Reevie asked, keeping a close eye on Flesh Eater. “What are you planning to do?”

I looked at Reevie and smiled, then turned to the giant boy still sitting in the sand where I’d left him. “Flesh Eater!” He didn’t look up. “Flesh Eater!” Still, he didn’t budge. I only had one option left. I raised my hands to the sides of my mouth and shouted.

“Tubby!”

The boy’s head shot up and he looked straight at me. I pointed at the open door and the awaiting corridor, yelling just one word. “Run!”

Tubby stood and looked at the door, then at me, then back at the door. Without any further prodding, he ran for his freedom.

Reevie yelped and pressed against my back as the giant boy flew past.

The crowds had stopped their chanting and were now openly calling for my head.

I left Reevie and Sapphire cowering by the door and ran across the arena to collect the other half of the pole hook, which I had dropped during my last encounter with the wall. I wanted to have both in case we needed to fight our way out, which we probably would.

When I made it back to the door, Reevie was holding some of the gauze from his bag. He quickly wrapped my chest before helping me with my socks, shoes, and shirt. The extra support helped with my broken ribs.

We headed back through the corridor leading up behind Hurricane’s risers. I poked my head out of the opening to see what was happening. The warehouse was in chaos. One look at Flesh Eater and Hurricane exploded into a crazed panic. In their rush to escape, they threw themselves into the other tribe’s sections.

An all-out battle ensued.

Kids were punching and kicking, head-butting and biting, pulling hair and gouging eyes—a weaponless war. Some of the kids were leaping from the stands down into the Pit, trying to get away from the giant monster. Others were thrown in as their hatred for each other overcame their fear of Flesh Eater.

Avalanche and Rockslide, the two tribes closest to the exit, made a mad dash before the tide hit them, but collided with each other, causing a whole new battle to erupt.

I could see Red fighting to get her tribe over to the left corridor while fending off fighters from Avalanche and Rockslide. This was my chance. I probably wouldn’t get another one like it.

“Get the armbands!”

“Which ones?” Reevie asked, opening the flap of his carry bag.

“Armbands? What armbands?”

“The red ones,” I said, ignoring Sapphire. Reevie dug through his satchel and came out with three strips of red material.

After our recent battle with Avalanche, I made sure Reevie kept a full selection of armbands with us at all times. You never knew when they might come in handy.

“Perfect,” I said. “Now put those on and stash the blue ones.”

Sapphire looked confused. “If we get caught impersonating another tribe, it could mean the end of us.”

“It’s going to be the end of us if we don’t get out of this warehouse. We need to—” I was interrupted by shouts from the other side of the corridor. Two boys exiting the arena made a rush for us, fists up.

Before I could get around Reevie, Sapphire had kicked the first in the chest, doubling him over, and smashed her elbow into the other’s face. The impact threw him against the wall where he bounced off and fell limp to the ground. She punched the first boy in the face and he dropped on top of the other one. Neither moved.

I smiled. “Impressive. And you didn’t even have to use your daggers.”

She waved airily. “Please. I could have taken those two with both my hands tied behind my back while hopping on one leg.”

“You should ditch that vest too.”

“Right.” Sapphire put her black vest inside Reevie’s satchel along with mine and tied on the red armband. “I can’t believe we’re about to do this.” Within moments, we went from being members of Hurricane to members of Wildfire.

“I think it’s time we go,” Reevie said. “There’s a break near the left wall.”

“Do you think you can manage on your own?”

Reevie nodded.

“Good. Then stay between us, but don’t stand too close.” He nodded and I took a deep breath and came out swinging.

Something inside of me changed. I could feel it. My magic was starting to return. I ducked to the side as a fist whistled over me. I blocked the boy’s elbow with one of my sticks and kicked him in the leg. He barely had time to hit the ground before I had clubbed him in the back of the head. Pushing Reevie out of the way, I diverted the next punch with a slap to the side of a girl’s arm, just enough to take it off course, followed with a swift strike to the face. She went down as well.

Behind Reevie, Sapphire was fighting two of Rockslide’s Guard, each carrying a shortsword. She was quite proficient with her two daggers as she managed to keep them at bay, but I didn’t know for how long. I jerked Reevie to the right just as a large boy dove past, expecting to tackle an easy target. The boy landed in the dirt and I kicked him hard enough to keep him there.

“Behind you!” I didn’t need Reevie to tell me. I had already seen them coming thanks to my magic. I waited for the two Avalanche beaters to get a little closer, letting them believe they had caught me off guard.

Three . . . Two . . . One. I leaped to my left, taking Reevie with me as the two boys swung at nothing but air, using odd-shaped pieces of wood as clubs.

Like many of the other kids, they had managed to find something to fight with even though weapons were strictly forbidden within the Pit. It didn’t take swords and knives to kill each other. If the kids couldn’t find a blade, they grabbed a hunk of wood. If that didn’t work, they beat each other unconscious with their bare fists.

I blocked their next two attempts and then ducked under a third, jabbing the sharp end of my stick into the first boy’s stomach. It wasn’t far enough to do serious damage, but enough to break the skin and make him think I had. Blood soaked through his shirt and he dropped his club and ran. The second got a good look at my eyes and realizing who I was, decided to follow his friend’s example and retreat.

Reevie grabbed my shoulder. “Help her!”

I spun in time to see Sapphire take a kick to the hip and go down. She barely had time to hit before I launched one of my clubs and caught the boy in the face. His sword fell from his hand and blood gushed from his nose, which was now bent at an awkward angle to the side. Sapphire grabbed his sword on her way back to her feet, and he took off running.

I threw myself against the second guard, forcing his attention away from Sapphire. He was at least two or three head taller than I was. He smiled, obviously thinking he had landed an easy prey. Apparently, not everyone recognized me by my eyes. All he saw was the red armband.

“After I’m through with you,” the guard said, “I’m going to club your little crippled friend over there and then teach your girl what it means to really scream. I hear Wildfire girls have a lot of spirit.”

I almost laughed. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”

“I’ll show you who’s got spirit,” Sapphire said, launching herself on the guard. She attacked with the ferocity of a panther. He barely had time to block as she struck left, then countered and struck right, ducking and spinning as she danced around her opponent. His arms were flailing as he struggled to hold her at bay. She forced his guard high and then stabbed him with her dagger and he collapsed.

I pulled her back before she could finish him off. “Come on. He’s not going anywhere, but we need to.” I turned to get my bearings. I could see flashes of red up ahead. “Come on. We can’t afford to get stuck out in the open.” I grabbed the big guard’s sword.

We continued to fight our way toward the wall, me in front and Sapphire bringing up the rear. Several times, we were forced to stop and fend off another group of kids looking to fight. None of them walked away. Some ran in fear, others limped, but most went down and didn’t get back up.

So far, I had managed to keep from killing anyone. I was saving that special treat for Red or possibly Spats, if I ever saw him. The little redheaded traitor had once again managed to weasel his way into another retreat, leaving his tribe to fend for themselves. I wondered how much longer it would take before the tribe wised up and tossed him over the wall as a reject.

My magic started to wane. Through the battle ahead, I caught brief glimpse of Red fighting her way into the corridor leading out of the arena. She was quite deadly with her daggers. Her moves were graceful but direct. She didn’t waste energy with flashy elongated strikes, just enough to get the job done. She clearly had training.

It didn’t take us long to reach the wall. Getting from it to the passage out took a little more time. When we got there, the Wildfire Guard was holding the entrance to give their tribe time enough to get through.

We kept our heads down and blended in with the rest of the escaping kids with the red armbands. With the sort of chaos erupting all around us, I could have been standing next to Red and she wouldn’t have noticed.

I kept a tight grip on Reevie’s hand as we pushed our way through the torch-lit corridor. With that many bodies pressing against each other, my broken ribs were poked and prodded to the point of nausea. The only thing keeping me upright was the tight dressing Reevie had applied under my shirt and my own determination that Red wasn’t going to step foot outside these grounds with my father’s ring still in her possession.

I could see the open foyer just ahead over the river of bodies in front of us. We burst through the narrow passageway and flooded the vestibule like water spilling from a dam.  The doors leading out were on our right and we followed the flow straight to them. I wasn’t sure what awaited us outside, but I knew whatever it was, I would be ready for it.

Flaming faeries, was I ever wrong!

The cooking pits were like large fireflies dotting the grounds from the stone warehouse to the main gate. What had been a deadly brawl inside the Pit had turned into a full-scale battle outside; especially considering each of those campfires held the weapons the kids hadn’t been allowed to carry on the inside.

“Dysentery!” Reevie shouted over the clash of steel and wood, and the cries of the wounded and dying.

“Stay close!” I yelled behind me. Reevie pressed against my back.

It was one thing to have survived a battle between two tribes, but to step out into an all-out war between all five was sheer insanity. Most of the tribes were fighting to reach the front gate. They had no more desire to be there than we did. There were some, however, that found the chance to lock blades with a rival tribe a thrilling endeavor. The majority wore either white or green armbands.

I tried to keep us near the center of Wildfire as we pushed our way ahead. Red was clearly trying to skirt the main battle and make a run on the gate. I had to give her credit for staying with her tribe and not playing the coward like another chief whose name I won’t waste time mentioning. She was proving to be a more competent leader than I had originally thought, especially considering her efforts to avoid direct confrontation and get her people out safely.

The stone gateway out of the depository was clogged with fighting, colored armbands everywhere. Most were in packs, but they were small and scattered all over the place.

I shivered. Something felt off, like before. The closer we got to the front where Red was shouting orders and cutting down those in her way, the more my magic withered within me. I was going to have to rely on my natural skills.

“On me!” Red shouted as a large group of white armbands from Avalanche attacked. I could see Cutter’s wide brimmed hat floating through the fighters as he attempted to cut her and her guard off from the rest of Wildfire. I had to admit, Cutter was a decent strategist, and his execution worthy of an Upaka.

It wasn’t that I cared one whit about Red, but the thought of that smug two-faced mongrel sticking her in the back and smiling as he did it didn’t sit right with me. The last thing these tribes needed was for Avalanche to grow any more powerful than it already was.

As we neared the wall, I pulled Reevie and Sapphire away from the others and stuck them behind a couple of unused haulers. “Stay hidden. I’ll be back.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sapphire demanded, taking a step toward me.

“To stop Cutter.”

She raised her sword. “Good. I’m coming.”

“You need to stay here and protect Reevie. I can’t stop him if I’m constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure the two of you are safe.”

“Since when have you ever had to look out for me?” she snorted. “You’re the one that needs protecting, always jumping in head first without looking.”

“Reevie needs you more than I do. Keep him safe.”

Reevie pulled a dark bottle out of his bag, along with a couple long strips of cloth. “Don’t you worry about us,” he said as he held his breath and started dousing the cloth with the liquid from the bottle. “We’ll be fine. Do what you need to. We’ll be here when you get back.” The smell from the bottle burned my nose and left me feeling lightheaded. “Ether,” he said, holding up the soaked material. “Anyone who gets close enough will wish they hadn’t.”

I smiled, remembering dodging one of his bottles during our last confrontation with Avalanche as I ran toward the fighting. My magic was completely gone. Not having my gift to warn me of danger forced me to pay close attention to my other senses. I pushed through the Wildfire beaters to reach the fighting at the front.

In close combat like this, a shortsword, like the one I had liberated from the guard inside, was a versatile weapon—one I was able to use to my advantage. Most of these kids had never been in a real life-or-death fight before. Watching two people kill each other in a pit was nothing like facing it yourself. Inexperienced fighters are unpredictable, which can make them dangerous. There’s no sense to their methods. They simply react.

I reached the front lines, sword in one hand, stick in the other. I helped push back Cutter’s forces, giving Wildfire a chance to build momentum. I noted a few green armbands scattered across the wall of white in front of us. At this point, whichever side of the line you found yourself on was the side you were fighting with. It was absolute chaos.

I blocked with my stick and cut with my sword. A strike to the wrist knocked a dagger from one kid’s hand. The boy next to him went down with a swift kick to the knee. Both Avalanche and Wildfire beaters dropped around me, but the fight didn’t slow. For every white or green armband that went down, there was another to take their place.

I spun to my right, dodging a thrust to my gut. I was about to club the boy in the head when one of my fellow reds decided to beat me to it. But instead of bashing my opponent, he swung wide and clubbed me. I didn’t even have time to duck. White dots clouded my vision and everything went black for a moment as I fell. The back of my head throbbed. I felt around for an open wound, but only found a nice walnut-size knot.

The funny thing about being thrown to the ground in the middle of a battle is the perspective from knee-level is quite different. It can even lead to some surprising discoveries if you can manage to keep all those knees and feet from bludgeoning you in the face. For example, I realized that most of Avalanche’s fighters were barefoot.

From the waist down, everyone looked the same, nothing identified friend from foe except the direction of the toes. I decided toes that had chosen to point in my direction were fair game. With a smile, I raised the butt-end of my stick and bashed the closest set of toes. The owner yelled, and hopping up and down. Suddenly, he dropped to the ground in front of me, unconscious. Someone up there had clearly taken advantage of my work.

I moved to the next pair.

All around me, I bashed bare feet. For those unlucky enough to be wearing shoes, I stabbed them with the tip of my blade. Kids were going down left and right. I couldn’t help but think how proud Spats would be right now as I cut their feet. I cleared a large enough hole to not have to worry about getting clubbed by my own people.  Of course, they weren’t really my people, so I didn’t feel the least bit guilty when I stabbed the person responsible for clubbing me in the first place. As soon as he started hopping around, I jumped up and whopped him on the back of the head.

Back on my feet, I blocked a high swing from another club with my sword and rammed my stick into the hefty girl’s unprotected midsection. I kicked her into the white-banded wall of fighters behind her, knocking several more down in the process. To my left, I could see Red and some of her guards struggling to hold back a growing cluster of Avalanche beaters from getting to her.

None of her tribe had noticed her predicament. All they saw were white armbands in front of them and that was all that mattered. The only hope she had was me. I broke off my fighting at the front and pushed my way through the Wildfire ranks to reach her.

Behind Red’s guards stood the short pudgy one she had taken with her to the Guild meeting. He had a sword in his hand, but didn’t look like he had any idea what to do with it. This was definitely the first real fight the kid had ever been in. I still couldn’t help but wonder if he was a sibling. It would make sense she would want him close, for his protection.

In the distance, purple armbands flooded the stone arches leading out of the depository. Noph was playing it smart by pulling his tribe out as fast as he could in order to avoid getting ambushed by either Cutter or Kore. Intermingled with the purple were the blue bands of Hurricane. Spats had no doubt left them to their own fate and was probably back at the Temple by now ordering a warm dinner and a hot bath.

Up ahead, I caught my first full glimpse of Red. She was now down to a couple of guards and the little black-haired boy. He was slowly moving backwards and away from Red and the fight. If he was supposed to be her guard, he was the worst I’d ever seen, and if he was her flesh and blood, the thought of him trying to sneak away and leave her there was reprehensible. He never even saw me coming.

“Mind if I borrow that,” I said as I grabbed the sword out of his hand just before punching him in the side of the face. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp. Before he hit the ground, I felt something within me come alive. My magic exploded through my body like a caged animal being set free. I looked at the little kid. Now I knew why Red kept him around. He was the one suppressing my gifts. I didn’t have time to ponder how he was doing it. Red was now down to a single guard—Toothless.

I glanced down at the two swords in my hands. They felt right, like a natural extension of my body. I was finally whole again.

Cutter fought his way through his own fighters to get to Red. She was crouched, two daggers held out in front of her, just daring someone to make a move. Blood ran down both her arms.

“You won’t get away with this, Cutter!” she hissed, glancing at all the white arm bands surrounding her. “The Guild will hear about this!”

Cutter laughed. “If you can’t hold on to what’s yours then you don’t deserve to have it. Just another reason why girls should never be allowed to lead. He raised his arm and motioned his beaters forward. “Kill her . . . slowly.”

I hit Cutter’s front line before they took their first steps.

My magic woke something primal inside me, something I hadn’t felt since my trip to Norshag with my father that resulted in a fight for our lives. I gave in to it. My arms flew with deadly accuracy. My swords pierced feet, legs, arms, and anything else I could reach without causing fatal injury.

Kids fell so fast around me that those responsible for taking their place had to be forced to engage. It wasn’t until Cutter drew his own blade and started threatening the lot of them that they began to press.

I was running on pure adrenaline and magic. My body was near exhaustion and my injuries from the Pit threatened to overwhelm my other senses. Every breath was excruciating. Red was there, along with Toothless, fighting with everything she had in her just to keep up.

I danced among the beaters, spun, dodged, sidestepped, and glided in and around every blow they sought to land. Their frustration at not being able to hit me only fueled their anger. Each beater only had a single swing before my swords found their flesh.

“Kill him, you fools! What’s wrong with you? He’s only one boy!” Cutter screamed.

I weaved between fighters, never staying in one place long enough to be taken. Cutter called for more reinforcements, forcing me to give ground. I couldn’t keep this up, magic or not. Pretty soon, all I could do was divert their weapons.

Red never said a word. It might have been that all her attention was on the beaters and their attempt to cut her down, or it could have been she didn’t like the idea of owing her life to someone she had just sent to the Pit. Either way, she continued to fight with a fierceness that earned my respect. Unlike me, she had no qualms killing anyone and everyone who came within reach of her daggers.

Toothless hollered as one of the Avalanche beaters stuck him in the side with a pick. Another fighter clubbed him in the back of the head and sent him bleeding to the ground.

There was nothing I could do for him but keep fighting. Red was right beside me, her face half-covered in blood. No matter how skilled I was, no matter how much magic I used, in the end, the numbers won out. Red cried out. I turned in time to see one of the beaters pulling his blade from her shoulder. She stabbed him in the gut and he went down cursing, but the damage had already been done. She was off balance, down to a single arm and forced to compensate with the other. She could either block or strike, but not both.

I grabbed her by the back of her vest and yanked her out of the way of a bludgeon, but lost my footing in the process. The Avalanche fighters seized the opportunity and flanked us. I fought harder than I’d ever fought before, made more difficult since I was trying not to kill the kids, knowing most of them were only there because of their fear of Cutter.

Red and I stood back to back. I took a hit to my right side, trying to fend off three clubs at once. The shock of the blow momentarily paralyzed my arm and I dropped my sword. We were almost completely surrounded. Red’s shoulder was pressed against mine as she fought with her one good arm. I parried another strike, redirecting the rusty blade away from my head while in the same motion driving the tip of mine through the beater’s left thigh. The boy screamed, grabbed his leg, and fell.

“Hold your breath!” a familiar voice behind me yelled.

A wash of liquid struck the kids behind us as they attempted to cut off our escape. One whiff nearly brought me to my knees. The entire line of Avalanche beaters dropped where they were, opening up enough room for me to pull Red back.

Sapphire was suddenly there beside me, cutting down anyone who came close enough to be a threat. I pulled Red back as Reevie used whatever ether he had left on the closest beaters.

Cutter had managed to cut us off from the rest of Wildfire’s forces. Even with the small reprieve, I knew there was no way we were going to survive this. Reevie was right. I was cursed.

“I told you to stay with Reevie!”

“Since when have I ever listened to you?” Sapphire said, blocking one sword with her own. I smiled. As angry as I was at them for getting themselves into this mess, there was still a part of me that was comforted that they would be with me at the end.

“Attack! Attack! Attack!” Cutter was yelling so hard, I thought for sure his head was going to explode.

I glanced over my shoulder at Sapphire. “I’m glad you didn’t listen.”

She smiled and then stabbed the next fighter in the chest. I managed to recover my second sword. By now, my ability to maim only was no longer there. I cut and stabbed at anything I saw. My mind was clouding. My breath came in deep gasps. I heard a hard crack followed by a soft groan, and felt, more than saw, Sapphire go down. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Reevie kneeling over her.

We were completely surrounded once again. This time there was four of us, not including the unconscious black-haired guard I had knocked out earlier. Red was trying to drag his body closer to her. The little kid clearly meant something. Her legs wobbled and she went down, the loss of blood finally catching up.

I was the last one still standing. I stabbed two more beaters and nearly decapitated a third.

“Wait! Don’t kill him yet,” Cutter’s voice rang out.

The Avalanche fighters stopped, but kept their weapons pointed at me, ready to finish the job.

Fatigue washed over me. My knees were wobbling and I could barely lift my arms. The right one ached from the blow it had taken earlier. Sweat dripped from my face and I gasped for air, watching the wide brimmed hat move through the crowd of beaters towards us.

The ranks parted and Cutter took a of couple steps closer, making sure to stay out of my sword’s reach, not that I could have done much with them at this point. “So, you’re the one I have to thank for all of this, huh?” Cutter gestured at the battlefield with his sword. “I could use a fighter like you on my guard. You’re wasting your talents in Hurricane, you know. That red-headed twit can’t appreciate what you have to offer like I can. Avalanche is the true power behind the Guild—”

“The true ailment you mean!” Red said in her usual diplomatic way. “You’re a disease, Cutter, anal leakage from a faerie’s backside!”

Cutter nodded to one of his beaters and the boy kicked her in the face.

Red responded by spitting her blood back at him.

“That’s more like it,” he said with a smirk. “Girls should learn their rightful place in this world. When a man speaks, they should hold their tongue.”

“When you see one, be sure to let me know,” she said. I had to admit, Red’s tempter might get in the way of her common sense, but she certainly had guts.

Cutter sneered. “I’m going to save you for last. In fact, I think I’ll save you for my boys. They deserve a reward for all the hard work they’ve put into capturing you.”

“You come near me and I’ll castrate you all.”

The battle around us continued to wage. There was no telling which of the tribes were still fighting and how many had made it out. It was obvious that Cutter had kept his behind hoping for something like this. He had clearly wanted to do away with her for some time, considering how he had treated her during the Guild meeting. My uprising had given him the perfect chance.

All I wanted was for me, Reevie, and Sapphire to have escaped all this nonsense unscathed, leaving it as far behind us as we could. But, yet again, another one of my plans had gone horribly wrong.

Since my arrival in this cursed city, everything I touched seemed to fall apart. All I could surmise was the Creator must be punishing me for Flon’s death. I just wished He hadn’t decided to include my friends in that punishment.

“So, what will it be?” Cutter asked, pointing the tip of his blade in my face. “Come be my new champion, or suffer the fate of your friends? Actually, I’ll do you one better. You come join me and I’ll even consider letting them live.”

I slowly turned to look at Reevie and Sapphire, and even Red. I finally understood why my teachers had stressed keeping myself free of such relationships. But I wouldn’t have given them up for the world.

Reevie smiled weakly and I returned it.

I turned to give Cutter my answer when I caught something out of the corner of my eye. There was movement in the distance behind Cutter and his guards. It seemed to be flowing counter to the battle. In fact, it seemed to be moving straight down the middle of the fighting and heading directly for us. “As tempting as your offer is,” I said, “I think I’m going to have to pass. Besides, I don’t believe I could ever manage to take the place of your current champion.”

“And why is that?”

“Because, I think he might have something to say about it.”

I had barely gotten the words out of my mouth when cries of fear erupted and beaters on both sides scattered in all directions. They trampled each other to get out of the way of the rampaging masked giant with blood running down his mouth.

Cutter’s eyes bulged. He raised his blade with a quivering hand and pointed it in Flesh Eater’s direction. “Stop! Obey me!”

The mammoth boy roared, sending the rest of the Avalanche forces scurrying for the exit. Cutter didn’t waste any time catching up. His hat flew off his head as he knocked kids out of his way.

Flesh Eater stopped and looked at me. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t tell what he was about to do. The last thing I needed was for him to decide to finish the job he had started back in the Pit. He barked out another animalistic roar, but instead of charging in my direction, he turned and chased after Cutter and the fleeing Avalanche forces. I could have sworn that for a brief instant, I had seen a smile.

For the first time since being volunteered to fight in the Pit, I was able to breathe a real sigh of relief. It was over.

Flesh Eater’s sudden arrival had managed to completely thwart the entire battle, making those still remaining reconsider the wisdom of lingering. In the time it took Reevie to stabilize Red’s wound, and me to check on Sapphire, every tribe but Wildfire had exited the premises.

“That thing sure knows how to break up a good fight,” Red said with a painful grunt as she struggled to her feet. Her legs were about as unsteady as mine.

“Will you hold still? Colic!” Reevie exclaimed. “You’re the worst patient I’ve ever treated.” He passed a quick glance in my direction. “Except for maybe him.”

One of the older beaters picked up the small, unconscious boy Red had been protectively cradling. Even Toothless had somehow managed to survive. He was lying on the ground holding the wound in his side and spewing complaints and curses with every breath.

Reevie finished tying off Red’s bandage. “There, that should hold until you decide to attack some other helpless kid walking down the street.”

I sighed and gave Reevie a harsh look. The last thing we needed was to anger Red with her entire tribe standing behind her.

“I could have you killed for impersonating another tribe, you know,” Red said as she inspected Reevie’s work. Blood was already seeping through the bandage.

Reevie crossed his arms and glared at her. “You could, if you want to die an excruciating death.” I gaped at Reevie. Was he trying to get us all killed?

Red turned back to face him. “And why would you say something like that? Are you planning on pulling a blade out of your underpants and challenging me to a duel?”

“I won’t need to.”

This time, it was Red who didn’t say anything. She looked troubled.

Reevie snorted. “In case it’s escaped your notice, the members of Avalanche aren’t exactly the most well-kempt of kids. They wouldn’t know what hygiene was if it reached up and bit them on the nose. And their weapons looked to be in as rough a shape as they are, meaning that the metal that pierced your flesh was probably covered in rust and who knows what else. I give you a week before that wound starts to blacken. Once that happens, there’s not much you can do besides find a quick way to kill yourself.”

Reevie smiled. “However, if you were to see to it that we left here in one piece, then I might be persuaded to stop by and treat that wound with a mixture of herbs I have at my disposal.”

Red looked at me, then at Sapphire, then back at Reevie and started to laugh. “I like you, little one,” she said. “You got spunk. But how do I know you won’t just poison me yourself?”

Reevie raised a brow. “If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

She stared at him a moment longer then gestured toward the open arches. “Let’s go!”

Wildfire gathered their wounded and headed for the front gate. Halfway there, Red turned back around. She pulled off the chain from around her neck and threw it at me. “For being my guardian.”

I caught my father’s ring in midair and cradled it to my chest. Red gave me a sultry wink and limped away, leaning on one of her beaters. The three of us stood there in silence as we watched the last of Wildfire disappear into the night. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be my last encounter with the brash tribal chief.

“Let’s go home,” I finally said, sliding my newly acquired swords through my belt. The thought of my bed was the only thing keeping me moving at this point. I put my arm around Reevie and we helped each other toward the gates.

“What about all of them?” Sapphire asked, looking out across the open yard. Bodies covered a good portion of the ground around the small cooking fires. Many were still moving.

“Leave them to their tribes,” Reevie said as he took a quick glance at the wounded and then turned and continued for the exit. “Their people will come for them eventually. And if not . . .” he shrugged. “Good riddance.”

The torches lining the front of the depository disappeared as we headed west on Mora. The stars were still out and bright, but I didn’t think they’d be for much longer. I had no idea what time it was, but dawn couldn’t be that far off.

We had only made it as far as Pilneth when a familiar growl echoed off in the distance. I stopped. The sound was quickly followed by a couple of high-pitched screams.

“What was that?” Sapphire asked, looking north into Cheapside.

I released Reevie who had been leaning on me for support, and took a couple steps toward the far side of the street. “Sounds like some of the locals just had their first run-in with Flesh Eater.”

“Well, let’s not be next,” Reevie said, following me over to tug on my arm.

I didn’t budge. Instead, I turned to Sapphire. “Here, take Reevie. You two head back to the granary and I’ll see what I can do about Flesh Eater.”

“What’s the granary?”

“Reevie will show you.”

“What are you going to do?” Reevie asked.

“I’ll think of something.”

Sapphire gave me a look to let me know how crazy she thought I was.

Reevie snorted. “Have you lost your mind? Did Cutter’s boys beat out what little sense you left? You can barely stand. Let the patrollers deal with him.”

“He’s my responsibility.”

“And how, for the love of Aldor, do you figure that?”

“I’m the one who turned him loose.”

Reevie and Sapphire exchanged a quick glance. “He has a point,” Sapphire said. “We’re the ones who opened the door. How do you think you’ll feel if a couple of innocent children are eaten alive because we decided it wasn’t our responsibility?”

I could see Reevie’s conscience battling his survival instincts. “I’d feel glad it wasn’t me,” he mumbled. I knew him well enough to know that wasn’t true.

“Take Reevie and go. I’ll be alright. Flesh Eater’s likely to get more upset seeing three of us anyway.”

Reevie handed me his travel bag, which still held a decent number of the supplies. “Make sure he’s good and dead this time. We can’t have a monster like that roaming the streets of Aramoor eating people. I have a little more of my ether left if you want to use it.”

Sapphire looked like she wanted to argue about being left behind once again, but she didn’t. “Just be careful.”

Reevie threw his arm around her. “Let’s leave the fool to his folly.” He didn’t even spare a glance in my direction as he limped off, dragging Sapphire with him. During our brief time together, I’d come to understand that whenever Reevie got upset, it was usually because he feared for my safety.

Needless to say, Reevie was angry a lot.

Sapphire offered a sympathetic smile over her shoulder as Reevie half-towed her down the street.

As I watched them shrink into the distance, I ran my hands across the hilts of my two swords, reassuring myself they were still there. I swung Reevie’s bag over my shoulder and headed in the direction of the screams.

I didn’t have to go far.

Most of the shouting was coming from the second and third-floor windows as residents were woken out of their sleep to see the giant masked creature roaming the streets, which I was sure was quite frightening. Still, I hadn’t found a trail of bodies pointing the way to where Flesh Eater was. Maybe he had already gotten enough to eat during the battle. I shivered at the thought.

I cut between two buildings, angry voices getting louder as I went. He had to be just ahead. I came to the end of the narrow alleyway and slowly stuck my head out.

No one was there. I must have just missed him. I cocked my head to the side and listened for any hint as to which direction he had taken.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Metal clanged loudly from an alley across the road. I ducked out my hiding place and dashed across the street, making sure not to kick up any loose cobble in the process. When I reached the corner, I stopped and listened. I could hear what sounded like crates being crunched under foot and another barking growl. It was definitely him.

I peeked around the corner, just enough to get a quick look without being noticed. A street lamp on the other side of the road lit the narrow corridor. In the shadows, I could just make out the large boy digging around in a pile of garbage. It looked like something was hanging out of his mouth. I was afraid to find out what it was.

Flesh Eater took a couple of steps forward and the street lamp lit his face enough for me to finally see what he was chewing on. I braced myself for the sight of someone’s hand or foot, but it was nothing more than an old melon rind.

“What’s going on out here?” a man called out behind me, causing me to jump.

I spun around. “Shhh.” I raised my finger to my lips and whispered, “Don’t startle him.”

The man cast about. “Startle who, lad? There’s no one here.”

I pointed back over my shoulder toward the alleyway. “Go back inside. I’ll deal with him.”

“Deal with who?” The older man was carrying a large cudgel in one hand. His hair was a mess and his shirt was open at the front. He’d clearly just gotten out of bed to see what was going on, most likely ordered to by a frightened wife. He pushed me aside to see for himself.

A sharp gasp was about all he managed before running back up the street. “Good luck, lad,” he called out as he charged through his door and slammed it shut.

The alley fell quiet.

I rolled my eyes and turned back around to see what the large Pit fighter was up to. I hoped all the racket the man had made hadn’t scared him off. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and scooted back toward the corner of the building. The wood was rough against my cheek as I cautiously slid my head out to look around the corner.

I nearly swallowed my tongue when I realized I was staring directly into Flesh Eater’s eyes. Our noses were practically touching.

I screamed, and Flesh Eater screamed, but his sounded deeper and manlier than mine. He scampered back into the alley and I realized he was just as frightened as I was. That thought gave me the courage to step out from my hiding place and into the narrow, garbage-packed corridor.

I could hear sniffling behind a stack of crates on the left.

“Flesh Ea . . . uh, I mean, Tubby?”

A crate toppled off the stack, exposing his giant head.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tubby. It’s me, Ayrion. Do you remember me? I’m the one who let you go.” I hoped he remembered.

“Arr—un.”

“Yes,” I said with a smile as I pointed to my chest. “My name is Ayr–ee–un. And you are Tubby.”

“Tubby,” he repeated, stepping out from behind the crates and into the faint light. He took another couple of steps forward and then stopped. He was clearly having trouble trusting me. It wasn’t like I could blame him. I was the one who had just snapped his fingers. Besides, who knew how long he’d spent caged away like an animal in Cutter’s compound. I couldn’t imagine what that must of have been like.

I reached into Reevie’s bag and pulled out an apple, holding it out for him to see. “Here. Would you like this? Are you hungry?” I tried to keep my words soft and gentle.

Tubby took another step.

“It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.” I made a point of sitting down cross-legged while waiting for him to do the same. He eventually plopped himself down a few feet from where I was sitting. I rolled the apple to him and he picked it up and sniffed it.

“Go ahead. It’s good.”

Tubby spit the leftover melon shell out and stuffed half the apple in his mouth and bit down. I couldn’t really tell because of the mask, but it looked like there might have been a smile. He released a soft moan as the juices dripped down his chin.

I wondered what it was like being forced to wear that hideous mask. Was it worn just during fights or was it something he was made to keep on? Knowing Cutter, it was probably permanent, used as a way to scare his tribe into obedience.

“Will you let me take that thing off your head?” I asked, pointing at his covered face.

Tubby didn’t say anything, but he grew very still.

I wasn’t sure if his silence was a yes or a no, but I took the risk and calmly stood up, making sure to keep my movements slow and smooth. I proceeded to move around behind him to take a look at the leather casing. So far so good. There was a sudden pop and crunch as Tubby sunk his teeth into the remaining piece of fruit. I breathed a quick sigh of relief and my shoulders relaxed. He seemed more interested in the apple than me.

The covering was held on by a simple buckle. I carefully reached out to undo it. “Now I’m going to loosen your mask, Tubby. Is that okay?” I waited for him to nod yes, but once again, there was no movement, so I took a deep breath and reached for the buckle. I slowly pulled back on the strap and unhooked it from the latch. “I’ve almost got it. Just . . . a . . . little . . . further.” I carefully lifted the covering from his head. It was heavier than I had expected.

The enormous boy didn’t move. I carried the head piece around to the front to get a better look at what I was dealing with. I still couldn’t see his face. His brown hair had grown in thick clumps around his head like creepers up the side of a knotty pine. I actually thought he looked scarier with the mask off.

Tubby lifted his hands and ran them across his face. He pinched his nose and then played with his ears. A wide grin spread across his face, almost bringing tears to my eyes. “Come on,” I said. I walked to the edge of the alley and motioned for him to follow. “We need to go before the patrollers get here. Look.” I pulled the last apple from Reevie’s stash and held it up for Tubby to see. “I have food. You don’t need to eat garbage. You can come home with me.” I almost laughed at the thought.

Tubby stood to his feet and snatched the apple from my hand. “Home?”

“Yes, you can come home with me. No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. And you don’t have to wear this thing anymore.” I tried stuffing the headdress inside Reevie’s satchel, but it was too big and hung halfway out. “Once we get home, we need to look at those fingers of yours.”

Tubby raised his hands and looked at his disfigured fingers from where I had popped them out of joint. I wondered how he was coping with the pain. I didn’t exactly regret breaking them considering the circumstances, but now that I was starting to understand the simple way Tubby’s mind worked, I wished it hadn’t come to that. I hoped Reevie would be able to set them without any permanent damage.

His apple hanging from his mouth, Tubby followed me to the head of the alley. I scanned both sides of the street to make sure the way was clear before hurrying us out and down to the next street over. The giant of a boy stayed close, taking short steps to match my stride. He made sure to keep a few steps behind me, like a pet following its master.

Trying to earn his trust was going to be a rough road. With all the physical and mental abuse the big kid had endured, there was no telling what it was going to take to get him through it. I hoped I had made a little headway.

We were nearly to the granary when the absurdity of what I was doing caught up with me. I started to laugh. My sudden outburst took Tubby by surprise and he jumped into a defensive stance—hands out in front, head up and sniffing the air as he twisted around looking for danger. It took a while for him to realize that the expression on my face wasn’t one of anger or fear, but of pure unrestrained joviality.

Tubby mimicked my expression by spreading his bloody jaws and croaking out a garbled laugh of his own. It was the most disturbing sound I’d ever heard, which, of course, had me laughing even harder, which in turn brought an even greater response from Tubby.

I laughed so hard I was afraid I’d need fresh trousers–not that I had any. I laughed at my unbelievable life. I laughed at myself, at the circumstances that had brought me to this point. I laughed at Tubby with his hair growing around his head and dried blood crusted to the front of his face. I laughed at my miserable luck and my perverse ability to somehow make it through every time. But, most importantly, I laughed at what I knew was coming.

“Reevie’s going to kill me.”

As predicted, Reevie nearly gave birth when I walked into the granary with Tubby. Bull, along with any of the other rejects who still happened to be up, ran screaming at the first sight of the bloody giant. It took quite a while to coax Tubby inside, and even longer to coax everyone else out so I could introduce them to their new roommate.

After a very long, very hot bath, I joined Reevie, Bull, and Sapphire as we began our work on Tubby. We had to clip pins to our noses to bear the smell. It took quite a while to get him into the extra-large basin of soapy water. He seemed frightened of everything. We cut his crusted mop of hair, scrubbed his skin with stiff brushes, and burned his filthy clothing. We went through three tubs of water to get him clean.

Reevie treated the damaged skin on Tubby’s lower half from where he had never been properly cleaned. Needless to say, it rounded out one of the longest, roughest nights I’d spent in Aramoor.

By the time we were through, Tubby looked like a new person. Seeing his face for the first time, Sapphire said he wasn’t that hard on the eyes, which Tubby found rather pleasing to hear, especially coming from someone as pretty as Sapphire. She had an admirer after that.

As the days rolled by, we focused on helping the wounded recover. Reevie was able to get Tubby’s fingers back into place using the last of the ether. He splinted each one with a metal rod just to keep the big kid from re-dislocating them while they healed.

Tubby did everything he could to please us. I think he was afraid that if he didn’t make us happy, he would be sent back to Cutter. I had to constantly reassure him that he would be welcome at the granary as long as he wished to stay.

Sapphire returned to the Temple to resume her position as the head of Spats’s Guard. She had wanted to stay with us, but we needed her to be our eyes and ears within the tribe, not to mention the invaluable amount of information she could gather while attending the Guild Council meetings, so she finally agreed.

I spent most of my time working on the immediate dilemma of how we were going to survive given the meager provisions we had. We were going to need food and medicine, and at the moment, we didn’t have a way to acquire either. To top it off, the wager Reevie and I had placed on me to win wasn’t being honored because both parties were still standing at the end.

I was sitting in my favorite spot on the granary’s roof, gazing out at the white spires and domes rising from the central part of the city, when a voice startled me from my brooding.

“I thought I’d find you up here.”

I turned to see Sapphire peeking out of the hatch leading down to the warehouse. She climbed out, taking a moment to coo at Reevie’s pigeon cage before sitting on the empty seat beside mine.

“I have news.”

“I hope it’s good news. I don’t think I can take any more bad.”

She smiled and fiddled with her hair. “I guess it depends on how you look at it.”

“Oh?” I twisted in my seat. She had my attention.

“I found out the reason for Spats’s unexpected change of heart in the Pit.”

I grunted. “And by change of heart, I take it you’re referring to my own chief betraying me and calling for my death? Yeah, I’d like to know that too.”

“Apparently, Spats, being the imbecile that he is, placed a very large wager with Noph on Tubby to win. He was hoping that the earnings he made off your death would allow him to repay whatever penalty Hurricane was going to be charged for having attacked Avalanche’s compound, and maybe even make him some extra coin in the process.”

I mulled it over. As much as I wanted to get my hands on that weasel’s neck, in a way, it made sense. Spats was planning to use my defeat as a way to hedge his bets against his own failures, both on the battlefield and in the Guild Council. He just hadn’t counted on me winning. All I could do was shake my head. “So, what’s the good news?”

Sapphire smiled. “Well, now Spats owes a wager he can’t possibly repay, which means that when they find out that he can’t make good on his debt, he’ll be brought up before the Guild, maybe even lose his place as chief.

“What happens to Hurricane if Spats is removed as chief?”

Sapphire stopped fiddling with her hair. “I don’t know. Not sure this has ever happened before.”

I took a deep breath and slowly released it as I gazed at the heart of Aramoor, the sun dipping toward the peaks of the Sandrethin Mountains. “I say we don’t worry about it. That’s a problem for another day.”

Sapphire eased back in her chair. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Protector! Are you up there?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed in frustration. “Well, that didn’t last long.”

She smiled and followed me to the open hatch.

“What is it?” I asked, barely making it to the opening when Rat’s head popped out the top.

A number of the outcasts had gotten to where they were calling me Protector. I had tried more than once to have them find something a little more creative, like my name, but the label somehow seemed to stick, especially considering every time someone new showed up at the granary and mentioned my eyes, Reevie would impart his now well-rehearsed explanation as to my heritage and the correct definition of the word Upaka. I think it was his way of reassuring our guests that the champion of the Pit, the strange boy with the colorless eyes, wasn’t going to kill them in their sleep and feed them to Tubby.

Peddle and Squeaks were waiting anxiously at the bottom of the stairs.

Rat was out of breath from the climb. “You’re needed at the front immediately, sir. There’s, uh, there’s . . . well, you’ll just have to come and see for yourself.”

“Come on,” Petal and Squeaks chimed in as they turned and headed back down the next set of steps leading to the main floor. “You need to see this.”

Sapphire giggled.

“Don’t encourage them,” I grumbled. She shrugged.

On the main floor, we met Reevie as he made his way up from our underground chambers. “What’s all the commotion?” he asked, not looking to be in the best of moods. He’d probably been interrupted in the middle of reading another one of his recently purchased—well, purchased might not have been the correct word—volumes on the latest medical practices. If there was one thing you could say about the little healer, it was that he was an astute practitioner of learning.

“Don’t know.” I shrugged. “They just said we were needed out front.” My hand slid to my waist on instinct where my fingers skimmed the leather grip of my sword.

By the time Reevie and I had made it across the warehouse, Bull had slid open the main door far enough for us to get through. The low sun was blinding, the perfect level to hit us in the face. Even with the squinting, I needed to place my hand over my eyes just to see. Petal and Squeaks tugged on my sleeves and pointed toward the road.

“What do we do about them?”

Rat bared his teeth. “Are we under attack?”

The loading yard in front of the granary was filled with kids.

Tubby rushed out the door and took a spot on my left, opposite of Reevie and Sapphire. He lifted his enormous bludgeon and grunted out the front hole of his leather mask. He had taken to wearing it whenever he felt the need for intimidation. The group of kids in front of us all backed up at the sight of him. A few took off running down the street.

Everyone at the granary had gotten used to Tubby once they realized he wasn’t a cannibal. Surprisingly, the former blood-stained giant actually preferred fruits and vegetables to meat.

Most of the kids found his presence not completely unwanted. In fact, many preferred him being there, if for no other reason than they felt safer having someone as big as he was around to scare off intruders. Rat had even let Tubby join his little club of miscreants, something Tubby seemed to consider a great honor.

Reevie scooted a little closer, his book gripped firmly to his chest. “What do you think they want?”

From the looks of them, I didn’t believe they were here to do battle. There wasn’t a single weapon in the lot. Unless you counted sticks for crutches and poles for toting what little belongings they had.

I could tell Tubby was upset by the unexpected arrival. I placed my hand on his arm, which was about as high as my forehead. “Don’t worry, Tubby. I don’t think they mean us any harm.” With that, he lowered his club and let it hang by his leg.

Across the way, a tall lanky girl in front took a few steps away from the rest. She had long, straight auburn hair that hung below her waist, and her outfit looked to be nothing more than random pieces of dresses all stitched together for the sake of simple decency. Her hands were trembling but she kept her back straight and proud.

“What’s your business here?” Reevie asked.

“We’ve come seeking the Protector.”

How had that name gotten out of the granary?

Reevie passed a quick glance in my direction. “And what do you want with him?”

“We . . .” She looked back over her shoulder at the group behind her. “We heard there was a place where everyone has value, a place that opens its doors to anyone no matter their age, or size . . . or sex.” She said the last with an extra hint of disgust. “A place that believes that no matter who you are, you can still make a difference. If that’s so, and this is that place . . .” She turned to look at those behind her again. They nodded for her to continue. “Then we’ve come to join!”

Shouts of agreement rose from those in the yard and on the street behind. Sticks and hands lifted the air as they continued in one voice to let us know that they wanted to be a part of a place that championed such values as the worth of an individual.

Reevie took a step back and leaned in to be heard over the shouting. “Well, you wanted a tribe.” He stared in wide-eyed wonder at the rally of kids that had gathered, all searching for a place to belong. “Looks like you just got one.”

I gawked at the throng of new faces staring back at me, and wondered how we were ever going to manage. In that moment, I came to one simple conclusion. We’d manage the same way we always had. One day at a time.

I HOPE YOU enjoyed this second installment to the Street Rats of Aramoor series. If you found the story entertaining and would like to see more, then please consider helping me reach that goal by: Leaving a quick review on Amazon.

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Author Note

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Acknowledgements

I THANK GOD for the doors and windows He’s allowed to open in order for me to reach this point.

I want to thank my Author Team, whose endless talent, time, and dedication has made this project possible:

AUTHOR TEAM

To my illustrator and sister, whose creativity and talent continues to impress—Janelle Wisehart

To my content editor, who managed to take a floundering script and turn it into something readable—Danae Smith

To my line editor whose patience has managed to surpass my continual lack of commas—Mia Darien

To my cover artist who has taken a concept in the back of my mind and turned it into a breath-taking reality—Whendell Souza

To my numerous Beta Readers whose faithfulness to the story has helped me keep the pages flowing.

About The Author

MICHAEL WISEHART graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business before going back to school for film and starting his own production company. As much as he enjoyed film-work, the call of writing a novel got the better of him, and on April 14, 2014 he started typing the first words of what would be two new epic fantasy series: The Aldoran Chronicles and Street Rats of Aramoor.

Glossary

Ayrion
[air-ee-un] 13-year-old Upakan street rat. Born with two magical gifts. Banished from his home for accidentally killing another Upakan.

Enon [eh-non] Farmer’s son who rode with Ayrion in the back of a wagon.

Neelan [nee-lun] Farmer who offered Ayrion a ride into Aramoor.

Toothless [tooth-less] Head guard of Wildfire.

Kira / Red [kee-ruh / red] Chief of Wildfire. Took Ayrion’s father’s ring.

Reevie [ree-vee] Street Kid who saved Ayrion and took him in. Healer in training.

Dorin [dor-in] One of Ayrion’s instructors who favored his whip as a method of teaching.

Lord Ackelman [ackle-men] Aramoor Lord who had Reevie’s dad turned over to the White Tower because his daughter died.

Master Fentin [fen-tin] Old book store owner who keeps a place for Reevie to hide when needed.

Mistress Orilla [or-ill-uh] Master Fentin’s wife. Makes a fantastic mystery-meat sandwich.

Lord Gerrick [gare-ick] Overweight lord whose carriage almost ran Ayrion over.

Po [poe] One of Kira’s head bodyguards. Short and pudgy.

Master Finley [fin-lee] Cheese Merchant on Borell Street.

Mistress Rossen [rose-en] Owner of quilt stand on South Avis.

Flon [flon] Upaka boy Ayrion killed that got him banished.

Sapphire [Saf-fire] One of Spats bodyguards who befriends Ayrion. Good with the sword.

Spats [spats] Chief of the Hurricane Tribe.

Cutter [cut-er] Chief of the Avalanche Tribe. Vindictive and cruel.

Kore [kor] Chief of the Rockslide Tribe. Physically imposing.

Noph [noff] Chief of the Sandstorm Tribe. Great tactician.

Egla [eg-la] Faerie goddess of the Temple. Her worshippers turned on her. Her creatures ate her.

Flesh Eater / Tubby [tub-ee] The Pit champion. Enormous kid known for biting. Fights Ayrion in The Pit

Toots [toots] Head watcher at the the Temple.

Forehead [for-head] One of the Hurricane Guards. Best known for his ferocious head-butting technique. Stands outside Spats’ door. Large growth on front of head because of head-butting

Bull [bull] Former Avalanche beater who fought Ayrion during battle. Becomes one of Ayrion’s bodyguards.

Rat [rat] Small reject boy from Rockslide. Small enough to squeeze in and out of tiny places for burgling. Friends with Squeaks and Petal.

Petal [peddle] Small reject girl from Avalanche. Her hair is as golden as a flower petal. Friends with Rat and Squeaks.

Squeaks [squeeks] Small reject from Avalanche. Friends with Rat and Petal.

Skull Crusher [skull-crush-er] The Pit champion before they banned fights to the death.

Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Copyright
- Table of Contents
- Map of Aramoor
- Books
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- FREE OFFER
- Author Note
- Acknowledgements
- About The Author
- Glossary